


The Hunt

by Saya087



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Beth Greene Lives, Beth and Daryl Surviving Together, Cause We Demand a Better Ending than Coda, Coda Never Happens, Dreams and Nightmares, Episode: s04e12 Still, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Long Live Bethyl, Post-Episode AU: s04e13 Alone, Romance, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Supernatural Elements, bethyl, season 4
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-05-17
Packaged: 2018-05-13 17:50:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 35
Words: 185,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5711515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saya087/pseuds/Saya087
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Coda canon-divergence/fix-it and slow burn love story that starts while Daryl and Beth are still at the prison. After the fall of the prison, Daryl and Beth struggle to survive together. Together they face not only a world full of walkers, but the prospect that they may be the last two people on Earth. Together they explore their fears, hopes, and a hundred what-ifs through the strange dreams and nightmares that haunt them as they wander the wilderness in search of their group.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thanks for checking out this work! Bits and pieces of this story have been floating around in my head for months now. It feels awesome to finally string them together in a cohesive story. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
> 
> Update 2/14/16: Added a summary for this fiction finally.

_"I was scared of dentists and the dark_

_I was scared of pretty girls and starting conversations_

_Oh, all my friends are turning green_

_You're the magician's assistant in their dreams"_

_-_ Riptide

Daryl could hear her voice long before he reached her. She was singing, some folksy tune from before the world went to shit. Goosebumps whispered up his bare arms at the sound of her voice winding its way along the empty cement corridors of the prison. He stopped just outside the library door and peered through the dusty glass window. Inside, he could see Beth pacing back and forth bouncing a fussy Judith on her narrow hip.

Daryl hesitated for a moment. He didn't know why but he felt awkward barging in on the two of them. He quietly opened the door and slipped inside. Beth evidently hadn't heard him. She was still singing and her back was to him. A book was lying open on the table. “Illustrated Book of Greek Myths: Volume I” was visible in small print at the top of one of the pages. The book was open to a myth called “Orion and the Seven Sisters” and a large illustration showed a muscular curly haired main peeking sinisterly from behind a tree at a group of half-naked blonde maidens.

Behind him Beth jumped.

“Hmpf, don't look like a book for no baby,” Daryl snorted.

“Don't you ever walk into a room and say hello? Why you always got to be so sneaky?”

Daryl grunted in response and shrugged.

“Anyways, there's not a lot of children's books around here. Don't suppose prisoners would be very interested in stories about big red dogs or talkin' dinosaurs. This one's got pictures at least,” Beth said, shifting Judith to her other hip.

Daryl flipped through the book and stopped on a page with a picture of a woman drawing a bow. “Artemis-Goddess of the Hunt,” the caption read. He held the book up to Judith.

“You like that, Little Ass-Kicker? Huh? You're gonna be like that someday. Big 'n strong with a bow for a weapon,” he said.

Judith stopped crying and began to giggle. He lifted her out of Beth's arms and rocked her.

“Rick asked me to come get Judith. He said ya can have the night off.”

A smile spread across her face. She leaned over and kissed Judith's cheek.

“I'm going to find Zach. We haven't had more than ten minutes alone together. I'm always watching Judith and he's always helping with fence duty.” She turned and hurried towards the door.

“Beth,” Daryl said, “I'm taking Zach on the run tomorrow. Rick thinks he's ready.”

“Do _you_ think he's ready?” The smile was quickly melting.

“I dunno. He's a tough kid,” Daryl shrugged. “Don't worry. I'll bring him back in one piece.”

“Thanks, Daryl,” she said. The smile returned to her face although it was somewhat diminished.  She rocked back and forth on her heels like she wanted to say something else.  She must have thought better of it because the next thing he knew, she was dashing away down the hallway, blonde ponytail bouncing behind her.

Daryl closed the book and tucked it under his arm.  It might be worth a look through later. It was his kind of book anyways--lots of pictures.  Wasn't no TV anymore and these nights he didn't get much sleep.  It would be good to have something to drown out the buzz of his thoughts when he was left in his cell all night with no other distraction.

He dropped Judith off with Rick and Carl and went back to his own cell.  He had started off sleeping on the perch, but after the Woodbury people moved in, he didn't feel comfortable out there.  He didn't know them and he had no privacy out there.  So he took the cell on the end, next to Beth's.  He slipped through the sheet that hung across the doorway and tossed the book onto the bed.

There was a cracked, dirty mirror opposite the bed.  His hair was sticking up at odd angles and was covered in grease.  His face and arms were smeared with walker blood and dirt.  No use showering before a run though.  He was only bound to get dirtier.  Instead, he took a rag and dipped it in the bucket of water under the mirror and ran it over his face and along his arms.

Daryl froze at the sound of footsteps and giggling outside.  Beth must have found Zach.  Like a damn soap opera.  Always touching each other and batting their eyes.  The giggling stopped and was replaced by sickly wet sucking noises.  Daryl supposed they weren't doing any more than making out because Hershel's cell was only a few cells away from Beth's.  He was likely in there now reading that Bible he found in the prison library.

He grabbed his pillow and pressed it over his head trying drown out the disgusting noises coming from next door.  It was irritating him more than he knew it should.  Merle had fucked chicks while Daryl was in the same room.  It was disgusting, but he never felt this annoyed by it.  He pressed the pillow harder to his ears, grinding his teeth and squeezing his eyes shut.

Merle's rotting face swam before him against the darkness.  Bits of flesh showed between his teeth as he grinned wider.

“What's wrong, baby brother? Ya jealous that sweet little eighteen year old gets more action in one night than you've gotten in your whole pathetic life?” Merle laughed. His blue eyes seemed even icier in death.

Daryl jerked awake. He sat up and flung the pillow across the room. The sucking sounds had stopped. Beth and Zach were now talking quietly.

“Come on, Beth. Everyone's always talking about how beautiful your voice is. But you never sing for me,” Zach begged.

_Maybe it's cause she hardly knows ya._

“Not tonight. My voice is tired from singin' to Judith all day,” Beth said shyly. Daryl could imagine a pink flush spreading across her pale face the same way it had when Hershel asked her to sing for the group their first night at the prison.

“But I'm going on the run tomorrow. Rick and Daryl said it could be dangerous. Might not come back.”

“You will come back,” Beth said defiantly.

“You don't know that--”

“I know you will,” there was a long pause before Beth spoke again, “Now go on and get some sleep.”

After a few more minutes of sucking and slurping sounds, Zach's footsteps finally retreated down the walkway. Then came the familiar sounds of course blankets rustling and soft humming as Beth settled in. When the humming stopped, Daryl knew she had fallen asleep.

He felt more at ease now, but not at all tired. He turned on the lantern next to the bed and picked up the Greek Mythology book. The book fell open to the story about Orion and the seven sisters. Orion was out for a hunt one day when he came across some hot sisters playin' harps and shit in the middle of nowhere. He was basically being a peeping tom when he became so horny that he decided he was going to have all of them right then and there. So Orion charged out of the bushes and the girls screamed, of course, and started running. Orion was a persistent bastard and refused to give up his chase so the sisters asked Zeus to help them.

“C'mon Darylina, that shit's for babies and little girls,” Merle taunted. His rotting face appeared again before Daryl in the darkness. Darkness, so thick he couldn't see his hand in front of his face, but Merle somehow glowed with an icy light.

“Shut up, ya prick! Not like ya even knew how to read!” Daryl growled. He jerked up right and the book clattered to the floor.

Light flooded back into the room. The lantern was still lit. Daryl was covered in sweat and his heart thudded in his ears. Blankets rustled in the cell next door.

“Daryl?” Beth called, peeking through the sheet at him. Her voice sounded thick, heavy with sleep, “I heard you shouting.”

Daryl's face reddened. It was bad enough he was having nightmares every damn time he shut his eyes. Now he was shouting in his sleep? She was standing in the doorway, waiting for him to say something. When he only stared on in stony silence, she crossed the room and sat on the edge of his bunk.

She was wearing very short pink shorts and a strappy black tank top. Her ponytail was loose and messy from sleeping on it. He pulled his knees to his chest and leaned against the wall, putting as much space between them as possible. When they were on the move all Winter everyone slept in their jeans and coats. It was warmer and safer.

“It was nothin' Beth. Just go back to sleep,” he said.

“You were having a nightmare again, weren't ya?”

_Again?_

He rubbed his forehead hoping to cover up how red he was getting. He felt the slight weight of her palm on his shin. He tensed at it like an animal being pulled from a trap. She drew her hand back as the tension transferred from him to her and shot up her arm.

“It's ok, Daryl. I have them too. Sometimes your shouting wakes me from them.”

Daryl snorted. His muscles began to loosen and relax.

“At least somethin' good comes from 'em,” he muttered, biting at his thumbnail.

She started towards the doorway but stopped halfway there.

“It's Merle, isn't it? In your nightmares?”

Daryl nodded slowly.

“It's Mom and Shawn in mine. Sometimes Jimmy and Patricia.” She padded away and was gone, leaving the sheet fluttering.

The blankets rustled again and she started humming to sleep. Daryl rolled onto his side. The book was splayed on the floor, its pages bent beneath it. There was no way he wanted to go back to sleep tonight so he decided to finish the story about the seven sisters and Orion.

The seven sisters prayed to Zeus and he turned them into birds. They flew up to the sky and turned into seven stars. When Orion died, Zeus put that bastard up in the sky right next to the seven sisters so the chase would go on forever. Greek gods sure had one hell of a sense of humor.

 


	2. Chapter Two

“I'm glad I found you before we left,” Zach said. He ran up to Beth, smiling that goofy teenage boy smile.

He was dressed in old torn jeans- the ones Beth thought were extra sexy- and his favorite grey t-shirt that had a drawing of cassette tape on it. Cassette tapes like the ones Daddy and Shawn used to listened to in the old blue pickup.

Daryl was a few feet away from them tossing gear into the back of one their trucks. He kept shooting Beth and Zach furtive glances. What was that all about? Probably was annoyed at them for just being teenagers. When Daryl turned his back, Beth quickly leaned over and kissed Zach on the mouth. Daryl grunted and looked back at them through narrowed eyes.

Zach gave her that begging look he did when he wanted another kiss. Daryl was still staring at them and for some reason she felt a little nauseous. This time she kissed his cheek instead, pulling away quickly.

“Aren't you going to say goodbye?” Zach asked.

“Nope,” Beth said confidentially as she walked away like none this meant anything.

She didn't want to say goodbye. Didn't want to think this could be the last time she ever saw him alive. She was sick of it. Sick of losing people. Sick of crying. Sick of feeling helpless when they were out there risking their lives on a run.

Rick was planning on spending the day with Carl and Judith outside in the vegetable garden, so she had a free afternoon for once. Figured. The one time she didn't have to babysit, Zach was off on a run. That was alright though. She'd spend some time reading or maybe writing in her journal. She headed to library to get the Greek Mythology book. She had a similar one when she was younger. There were so many great love stories in it. And the gods and goddess almost always took pity on the humans and lesser deities when they were in trouble, usually by turning them into something beautiful like a flower or a dove or a star.

The book wasn't on the table. It wasn't on the floor or on the shelf or anywhere in the library. She frowned. Did Daryl take it yesterday when she gave Judith over to him? He had made some remark about it, but she didn't think he was interested in that kind of thing.

She made her way back to her cell. She ran into no one on her way. Everyone seemed to be outside eating lunch at the little community area that they set up on the basketball courts after the Woodbury people had moved in.

Beth pushed aside the sheet Daryl had put up for privacy. Privacy from the Woodbury people, Beth guessed since he had slept out in the open before, right at the top of the stairs. His cell was sparsely decorated. A few squirrel hides were strung up along the back wall. There was a bucket of water and some rags for washing under a cracked dirty mirror. It was obvious that Daryl had never attempted to clean it. A few ripped shirts and pairs of jeans were piled up in the corner. The book was lying on the floor, open and face down. Beth frowned as she picked up. Half the pages were all bent up.

Back in her own cell, she picked up where she left off-at the beginning of Orion and the Seven Sisters. Seven sisters were picking flowers in the forest when Orion came upon them and was so overcome with desire for them that he chased them. The girls ran like deer through the forest with the hunter chasing them unrelentingly. The sisters prayed to Zeus to save them. Zeus took pity on them and turned them into white doves and they flew up into the heavens where they became the stars of the Pleiades. It was a beautiful story. Must be nice to have some desire you so much they'd chase you to the ends of the earth and never give up on you.

Zach was pretty much wrapped around her finger, but she didn't think he loved her like that. Hell she didn't even think she loved him like that. She didn't even know yet if what she felt for him was love or just desperation to feel something other than fear and grief.  She was still kind of annoyed with him for last night.  Asking her to sing on cue like that.  She wanted to sing cause something made her feel like singing.

She shook her head, it was silly anyways, the kind of passion in the myth was probably only possessed by gods and heroes. Then again she wasn't a nymph or a goddess or an exceptionally beautiful mortal like Psyche in the story of Eros and Psyche. She decided to reread that story to pass the time and get her mind off Zach. Daryl was with him. He would be fine, she decided. She read a few more myths and then decided to pour some of her worries about Zach into her journal.

The light from the window turned from a golden yellow to a burning orange-red and the shadows of the bars stretched long across the dusty floor. Beth was lying on her stomach still pouring her thoughts into the little black book. She looked up to see Daryl standing in the doorway of her cell.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hi,” he replied back. He stared at her for a few moments in silence. His mouth was drawn in a tight line, neither a frown or a smile.

“What is it?”

“Zach.”

Beth felt her chest tightening. Her stomach dropped. She felt like she was falling. Like claws were tearing her apart from the inside out.

“Is he dead?”

Daryl broke eye contact with her to stare at his feet.

“Ok,” she said, staring across the room to avoid Daryl's gaze.

Pain was welling up in her belly, sharp, wet, icy cold. Push it down. Push it away. Think of something else. Anything else. The thoughts came, a desperate attempt to wall up the pain:

_Not like you were married to him. Not like you had even been dating him that long._

She busied herself with taking the 3 off the “30 Days without an Accident” sign that hung across from her bed. She didn't want to look up, but she could feel Daryl's eyes on her.

“What?” she said, shaking her head, “I don't cry anymore. I'm glad I got to know him at least.”

“Me too.”

They stared at each other for a long minute. Daryl seemed like he wanted to say something else, but looked down instead.

“Are you ok?” she asked.

Beth expected him to nod or grunt that yes he was ok, but he shook his head instead. When he met her eyes again, she could swear they were shinning with tears.

“Tired of losin' people is all,” he sighed.

Beth wrapped her arms around him and pressed her cheek against his chest, nuzzling her head under his chin. His body tensed at her sudden presence against it. It loosened after a few seconds and his hands came up to stroke her elbows.

“Glad I didn't say goodbye. I hate goodbyes,” she told him.

“Me too.”

They broke apart. His eyes were still sparkling with wetness. Their faces were so close she could feel his breath on her cheek. So close Beth could have closed the few inches in a matter of seconds with a kiss on his chapped lips. Why she was considering this, she didn't know. Something fluttered in her stomach. She took a step back to stop herself from doing something that was totally silly. All those romantic Greek Myths must have gotten to her head she decided. Beth pulled her sweater up over her shoulder, suddenly aware of its nakedness.

“Beth,” Daryl breathed, “Are you sure you're alright?”

“I'm fine, Daryl,” she answered. Beth threw herself down on her bunk, picked up the book, and pretended to read.

Daryl still stood there for a long time. After what seemed like forever, his footsteps passed her cell and went into his own. When she heard the familiar sound of his weight sinking into his mattress, she set the book down. There was nothing to do but stare at the wall and wait for sleep.

Thoughts about Zach kept forcing their way into Beth's mind. She popped each one like a balloon. Over and over. She couldn't allow herself to dwell on them. Those kind of thoughts were exhausting. Every loss brought on a wave of them and if she let them build up, she was going to drown in them.

“Beth, I'm glad I ran into you before we left,” Zach said. He was smiling.

Beth shivered in the sunlight. It was late September. Why was it so cold? She moved closer to Zach to snuggle against his warm body. He kissed the top of her head as she leaned against him.

“It's time now,” he said as he pulled away.

She turned and with a cocky half-smile started to walk away.

“What? You're not even going to say goodbye, you selfish bitch!”

Her blood turned to ice. She wheeled around to face him. His left eye was hanging out of its socket, his hair was falling out in clumps, and the t-shirt with the tape cassette on it was torn to pieces and hung limply over the shrunken dried skin of his chest and stomach. Suddenly, Zach was on her, teeth gnashing against the soft pale skin of her neck. Beth screamed and screamed as he devoured her.

 


	3. Chapter Three

Daryl kicked off his boots which were crusted with mud and bits of walker flesh. His jeans were stained rusty-brown with dried blood. Daryl kicked them off and threw them across the room, knocking over the bucket of water. He sunk into his mattress. A few times he heard the blankets rustle next door, but there was no humming tonight. He wondered if Beth would be able to sleep at all. She had tried to hide it earlier. Hide how much Zach's death was ripping her apart inside. He could sense it, the same way a predator can sense the fear in its prey.

Zach's death was tearing apart his insides too.  Another loss, another fucking loss. He failed them both. He couldn't keep Zach safe in the end. That was on him. Anger welled up in his chest. Daryl swiped a hand across his eyes. A few small drops of wetness washed away a bit of the grime on the back of his hand. He rolled onto his stomach and drowned his face in his pillow, glad it was dark and no one was around to see him like this.

“Aww what's the matter, Darylina? Should I get you some warm milk and a bedtime story?” Merle laughed. He knelt down next to Daryl's bed. A loose flap of skin on his cheek fluttered as he spoke.

“At least I'm capable of feeling somethin', unlike you!” Daryl spat back.

“Forgive me baby brother if I don't shed a tear for some pussy boy and that cold-hearted little girl. Hmpf, didn't even shed a tear for her little lover boy. She is fucked up,” Merle said.

“Maybe she didn't want to cry in front of anyone!”

"Oh, ain't that romantic, you stickin' up for her.  I guess you care about that pretty lil' piece of ass more than poor ol' Merle."

"It ain't like that!"

Screams cut through the darkness and the image of Merle shattered. The cell rematerialized around Daryl. The dream was gone, but the shrieks kept coming from the cell next to his. Without bothering to pull his jeans back on, he rushed into Beth's cell.

Beth's shrieks had subsided into whimpers. He sat down on the floor next to her bed and shook her.

“Beth! C'mon girl wake up!”

Her eyes fluttered open, eyes the color of cornflowers on a June afternoon.

“Daryl?” she said confusedly. She sat up in bed, the covers falling off her. She was sleeping in her clothes. She must have passed out after he left her.

“You were screamin', Beth,” he said.

“Yeah, I was screaming in my nightmare.”

“No, you were screamin'. Screamed so loud it woke me from my nightmare,” Daryl told her.

Her cheeks flushed with pink.

“If I was screamin', how come no one else came runnin' in here?”

“Dunno,” he replied.

It was strange. Maggie and Glenn were in the cell next door. He could hear them talking in hushed tones and every so often they would giggle. Surely, if Maggie heard her sister screaming, she would come running. He felt like a dumbass. The screaming must have just been in his dream. It was just a coincidence that Beth happened to be having a nightmare at the same time.

“What was your nightmare about anyways?” he asked.

Beth shifted toward the wall and patted the blanket next to her. Reluctantly, he sat on the bed next to her.

“Zach,” she said simply.

“Zach? What about him?” Daryl suddenly felt guilty. He should have done more to protect the kid. He should have told Rick to send someone else on the run.

“He was a walker. He was eating me. Pretty much the same dream I have about Mom and Shawn,” she shrugged.

“I have that dream about Merle sometimes,” Daryl admitted.

She rested her hand on top of his. It was smooth and pale as the moon against his rough, tanned one. He only tensed up a little this time and quickly relaxed. It was nice, having her hand there. Nice, like when she put her arms around him and nuzzled against his chest earlier. She was staring at him again, in the same way she had earlier. Their faces were so close he could have counted every one of her long pale eyelashes. Everything was quiet, except for the sound of their breath, his quick raspy ones and her soft slow ones.

“Mmm, Glenn, fuck me,” Maggie moaned from the cell next door.

They both snorted. Beth broke the gaze and removed her hand from his. The cool air rushing in to fill the space it had occupied caused him to shiver.

“So what was your nightmare about?” she asked, “Was Merle eating you again?”

“No, not eatin' me, just taunting me,” he answered, “Bastard always had a way of gettin' under my skin.”

“I'm glad my screamin' woke you up then,” she said. A slow smile spread across her face, “At least some good came of my nightmare.”

Daryl grunted in agreement and Beth smiled wider. He threw his legs over the edge of the bunk and started to get up.

“Hey, Daryl, do you think you could stay a bit longer?”

He looked at her sad, pleading eyes and he couldn't say no, especially with the guilt of Zach's death weighing on him.

“Yeah, ok. Just let me get somethin' first.”

Daryl went back to his own cell and pulled on a pair of slightly cleaner jeans before going back to Beth's cell. He figured it probably wouldn't look very good if someone else, like Hershel or Maggie or even Glenn decided to come check on Beth. He didn't want to give anyone the wrong idea. He was just going to sit on the floor next her bed until she fell asleep. He would never even consider doing anything else. He wasn't some pervert like that peeping tom, Orion.

“Try to get some sleep, Beth,” Daryl told her.

He had settled himself on the floor, with his back against the cold stone cement wall. She nodded and laid back down, pulling the covers up to her chin. Soon she was humming softly to herself. Daryl picked at a thread that was unraveling from the huge hole in the knee of his jeans. Hopefully she would fall asleep fast so he could get back to his cell before anyone else in the group woke up or decided to pay a visit to Beth. How long did it normally take before the humming stopped? Maybe twenty minutes? It didn't matter. He had no way of telling time.

Daryl's own eyelids were growing heavy. He was fighting it as much as he could, but his body and mind were beyond exhausted from the lack of sleep and the disastrous run. Beth was still humming next to him. The sweet, quiet notes were luring him dangerously close to sleep.

The sudden silence snapped him awake, he supposed. Next to him, Beth had stopped humming. Her chest was slowly rising and falling beneath the covers. Her face was blank. At least it looked like she wasn't having another nightmare. Daryl reached out to smooth a stray piece of blonde hair off her face, but stopped himself. What the hell was he doing? Acting like some doting what? Father? Brother? Boyfriend? Hell no! He stormed out and went back to his own cell. He shoulda done that to begin with. It wasn't his job to babysit some scared little girl. He slung his crossbow over his shoulder. He'd go walk the fences. Not like he was going to be able to get any sleep now.

 


	4. Chapter Four

When Beth woke up, Daryl was gone. Thoughts from yesterday flooded back into her mind the moment she opened her eyes. She felt herself scrambling to keep from drowning in them. Couldn't let herself think about it. That was just life now. People went out and didn't come back. People got ripped apart monsters. Jimmy got ripped apart by monsters and so did Zach. Pain surged through her, radiating out from the center of her chest. She scooped up her towel and a change of clean-ish clothes and headed for the showers.

Outside the sky was a pale indigo. She paused outside of Rick's cell. He was frowning in his sleep. He looked agitated. His calloused brown hand stuck out over the side of the mattress, his fingers dangling a few inches above Judith's makeshift mailbox bed. Judith on the other hand, looked completely peaceful, blissfully unaware of the world she lived in. From the top bunk, Carl snorted and made that choking sound he sometimes did in his sleep. His mess of shaggy brown hair was just visible under the scratchy green covers.

His snoring had annoyed her so much the winter they spent on the move, sleeping in the backs of cars. She would be jolted awake by that choking sound to find Carl's head lolling on her shoulder, a bit of drool falling onto her jacket.

Beth almost missed it. It was strange sleeping alone again, even though the privacy was nice. She missed the feeling of a warm body against hers. She even missed the sound of that snoring, but only a little. When they were sleeping crammed in the backs of cars, Beth didn't have as many nightmares. Now she had them almost every night.

Daddy would never let Zach spend the night in her cell. Heck, he wouldn't even allow her to share a cell with Carl. She rolled her eyes. Like she would do anything with Carl, he was like thirteen. Rick muttered something in his sleep that sounded vaguely like “Lori” and Beth continued on to the showers.

No one else seemed to be stirring yet. That was good. It would be nice not having to share the showers with anybody else for once. She pulled the door shut behind her. Beth frowned. The sound of running water told her that someone else thought early morning would be the perfect time to get in a private shower. She could turn around and leave, come back later. Or she could have a quick peek and see who it was. If it was one of the females from the group, she would just go in and shower quickly. If it was a guy she would just leave and come back later.

Beth crept forward, making sure to keep herself hidden behind the towel rack. Her face immediately reddened. Daryl was standing under the running water, his back to her. His palms were pressed against the walls and his head was tilted down, allowing the water to run over the back of his neck. Blue-gray roads crisscrossed his back. Her eyes followed them to where they stopped at his hips. She followed the streams of water down as they made their way over his hips, thighs, and legs to where they pooled murky brown at his feet.

She knew she should go, but her bones had turned to stone. It was mostly curiosity that had immobilized her, but it was partly something else too, something she didn't have a name for yet. Something that sent tiny electrical charges racing over the surface of her skin.

Beth had never seen Daryl naked before, not even in all the months they spent living in tents and in the backs of cars, with almost no privacy. He rarely even took his shirt off. By now, she had seen most of the other guys, Rick, Glenn, T-Dog, in some state of undress or another. Once, she and Maggie had accidentally stumbled upon Rick completely naked as he was washing up in a river. Rick just brushed it off. He grinned and looked away, nodding his head. Then he said something along the lines of “Mornin' ladies.” And she and Maggie staggered away through the trees, clutching each other and giggling like school girls. It became her's and Maggie's silly little secret. On nights they shared the watch, they would sometimes discuss in giddy whispers the muscular curves of Rick's thighs and ass, his washboard abs, the scar on his side that was a souvenir of a gunshot wound from another life, as well as other parts.

This was different though. This was Daryl. Daryl, the angry redneck who didn't want no one to see him naked or even without a shirt on. Carol had told her once that Daryl had his code. Perhaps modesty was part of this code. Modesty—the perfect trait, for a Victorian housewife maybe. He wasn't anything like Jimmy or Zach with their soft, pale, flat stomachs and farmer's tans. His body was kind of similar to Ricks, but bigger and rougher. Daryl had more scars and tattoos. Daryl was like the apples they couldn't sell at the farmer's market, the ones that were bruised and dented. The ones that didn't look pretty, but were every bit as sweet. Beth's mouth watered thinking about it as her eyes traced Daryl's scars.

Daryl lifted his head and shot a sideways glance towards where she was hiding. All of the sudden, the tension in her body snapped and she swayed forward knocking into the rack. Judith's plastic pink bathtub wobbled and clattered to the floor. The water switched off. Daryl wrapped his towel around his waist. She reached for the door and flung it open. She ran all the way back to her cell and got under the covers and pretended to be asleep. She could hear Daryl's footsteps following her, echoing through the empty corridors. A few minutes later Daryl appeared in the doorway. He had put clothes on, a ratty pair of jeans and one of those button down flannel shirts with the sleeves cut off. Beads of water still trickled down his arms and his hair was dripping wet. He was holding something behind his back.

“Mornin', Daryl,” Beth said, trying to look innocent.

“Drop somethin'?” he asked. He flung the object he was hiding behind his back at her.

Her small pink bra, with the padded cups, hit her in the chest and dropped to the floor. Beth was mortified. She should have just left the room the second she saw who was in there. No, he wasn't Rick. He wouldn't just laugh this off like it was nothing.

“Daryl, I--”

“Don't appreciate ya spyin' on me,” he snapped.

“I didn't know anyone would be in there. I left when I realized--” she tried to explain.

“I heard ya come in. Ya stood there for a good long while.”

“I'm sorry, Daryl.”

The look on his face softened a bit and he grunted.

“Just don't let it happen again,” he growled.

They avoided each other as much as possible over the next few days. Daryl no longer came in during the night to wake her from her bad dreams. Although, his groaning and whimpering and sometimes shouting, still woke her. It seemed like his nightmares were happening more frequently. She no longer went over to wake him up either. It was clear that he was uncomfortable being around her when she was wearing her pajamas. It was also clear that he was uncomfortable being in her cell at night.

Beth spent most of her days caring for Judith and helping Carol with the laundry. Sometimes Carl would come by and go on and on about whatever comic book he was reading at the moment and Beth would try to feign interest. It was hard to pay attention to what he was saying with the growing ache in her chest. Ever since the day in the showers, a deep aching loneliness had taken root inside her. Jimmy was dead. Zach was dead. Hershel and Maggie were always busy with the council or off on a run. Daryl wouldn't so much as look at her.  All Carl wanted to talk about was comic books. Judith was her only constant companion now and Judith couldn't exactly provide any comfort or advice.

The loneliness grew worse when an illness burned through the prison and she was forced into quarantine with Judith, Carl, and her father. Of course, her daddy refused to stay in quarantine when there were people who needed his medical expertise. He always put others ahead of himself. Carl also refused to stay put, grumbling about how his help was needed. That was typical Carl behavior these days. Beth was forced to pass the time alone, caring for Judith and reading some of Carl's comic books.

She was told by Maggie that Daryl, Michonne, Bob, and Tyreese were out on a run to bring back antibiotics from a veterinary college in the area. Rick and Carol had set off on their own to see if they could scavenge any medical supplies from a nearby subdivision.

Finally, Daryl and the others returned with medicine and she was allowed to go back to C Block with Judith. Those who survived the illness had to remain isolated until her father said otherwise. She was glad to be back in her cell with her things and a real bed again. Beth wondered when she'd see Daryl and if he'd still be avoiding her when she did. As if he could hear her thoughts, he appeared in the doorway of her cell.

“Hey,” he said.

He wasn't covered in his usual coat of grease, sweat, and walker blood. He must have showered after he got back to the prison. Once again he was holding something behind his back.

“Hi,” she replied. She shuffled to one side of the bed and motioned for him to come in. “How's Glenn? And my dad?”

“Gonna be fine. Your dad and Bob are fillin' up the IV bags with the medicine we brought back,” he replied. He was avoiding eye contact with her.

“What's that you got there?” she asked.

“Nothin' really.” He held out a small stuffed cow. “Found it on the run. Thought maybe Judith would like it.”

Beth took it from him and smiled.

“I'm sure she'll love it. She doesn't have hardly any toys.”  
His fist was still tightly closed around something. She looked at it curiously. His face started to redden. For a minute she thought he was going to run out of the room.

“Found this too,” he said, slowly opening his fist to reveal a silver chain with a little horseshoe charm on it, “Thought ya might like it. Know how much ya miss the farm.”

Beth took it from him. She guessed this was his way of apologizing for snapping at her the day she saw him in the shower and for avoiding her. Maybe he missed her too. The thought set off the fluttery feeling in her stomach again and heat crept into her cheeks. She fumbled with the clasp trying to put it on. Daryl's hands brushed over hers as he took it from her. She moved her messy ponytail to one side. He hooked the clasp and gently set it against the back of her neck. His hand lingered there a few seconds longer before gently sweeping across her skin and away.

A current of electricity ran through her whole body. She threw her arms around him and nuzzled her head under his chin the same way she had the day Zach died. This time, Daryl's hands came up more quickly and ventured up her arms and over her shoulder blades.

“I'm glad you're back, Daryl,” she told him.

He grunted in response, but it sounded like a happy grunt to Beth. Almost reluctantly they broke apart. She met his eyes and held his gaze. She couldn't quite tell what she saw there. Fear? But why? Why would Daryl be afraid of her? She shook it off. Maybe he had other thoughts on his mind. Maybe he was thinking about his nightmares.

“If ya need anything, I'll be around. Gonna go have a look at the tombs with Rick,” he said quietly. He was gone before she could say anything else.

For the first time since before Zach's death, Beth felt like singing again. An enormous weight had been lifted off her heart. She couldn't stop smiling as her fingers glided over the little silver horseshoe.

 


	5. Chapter Five

Daryl was in the tombs with Tyreese and Rick when the first explosion shook the walls sending showers of plaster down. When they emerged in the yard, a tank was parked out front. That piece of shit Governor was standing there in front of it all, smirking away. Anger surged up in his gut. He shouldn't have stopped looking for that asshole. He fucking knew it. Now that psychopath was parked on their doorstep. The Governor motioned and his “soldiers” brought out Michonne and Hershel. Both of them had their hands bound behind their backs. Carl raised his gun and took aim.

“I'm a good shot. I can end this,” Carl whispered.

“No. It's too risky. Let your dad handle it,” Daryl said.

Rick was practically pleading now. He offered to let the Governor's group move into the prison with them. He even tried reasoning with the Governor's army. Daryl knew nothing Rick could say would make a damn bit of difference to that prick.

In the end, the Governor took Michonne's katana and slashed Hershel's throat. He then proceeded to hack Hershel's head off with the sword. Daryl's blood turned to ice in his veins. Time seemed to be moving in slow motion. Each movement of the sword was painfully drawn out. _Clang. Clang. Clang._ It was a scene too horrible to exist anywhere other than a movie or a nightmare. Hot blood splattered the Governor's face. His mouth was open in savage pleasure. He looked inhuman. He looked like a monster, a demon, a cyclops, but not human.

Hershel's eyes were wide and full of terrified desperation as the red blood gushed forth, staining his white beard. Daryl recognized that look. It was the same look Dale had given the group the night he was disemboweled by that walker, begging them to end his suffering.

_Sorry, brother._

“Kill them all!” the Governor yelled, throwing Hershel aside.

The tank began to creep forward, smashing the fences. Shots were coming from every direction. Maggie and Beth were screaming and firing Rambo style at the Governor and his army. Daryl saw only red. He wanted every one of the sonsofbitches dead. He reached in his jeans pocket and took out a grenade. He pulled the pin out and threw it at the tank. It exploded causing several of the governor's soldiers to retreat. He hoped it killed a few of them too.

Time was suddenly going like a movie on fast-forward. Behind him, Maggie was trying to get everyone on the bus. Daryl provided as much cover fire for them as he could.

“Where's Glenn? Has anybody seen Glenn?” Maggie screamed over the gunfire.

She darted behind Daryl and disappeared back into the prison. A few minutes later, she returned with Glenn and helped him onto the bus, only to realize Beth was missing.

“I can't leave without Beth!” she screamed, climbing off the bus.

The tank was now onto the basketball court. Daryl had one last grenade left. With a smirk, he pulled the pin and tossed it down the canon of the tank, disabling it. He shot the poor bastard inside as he tried to scramble out before the grenade could go off.

He heard the sound of tires squealing as the bus sped away. The yard was shrouded in smoke from all the gunfire. He couldn't see anyone else. He had no idea if Maggie had made it back to the bus or what had happened to Rick. The last he saw, Rick and the Governor were punching the crap out of each other in a field full of walkers.

With the fences down and all the noise from the gunfire, walkers were flooding in. He needed to go now. He would do a quick sweep of the yard first to make sure no one else needed help.

“Daryl! Did you see Maggie?” Beth called through the smoke.

“Beth, we gotta go!” Daryl yelled as he grabbed her wrist.

His first and only thought was to get to the forest. Go in the opposite direction the walkers were coming. Stay away from the roads. Less likely to encounter people deep in the woods. Less likely to have a run-in with another asshole like the Governor. He knew the woods. They'd have food there and likely a source of water too.

They fought their way along the edge of the flood of walkers. They both used their knives to avoid drawing the herd toward them. Daryl pulled her on, deeper and deeper into the woods. She stumbled along behind him. Her hair was splattered with blood and bits of it were escaping her ponytail. Tears stained her face, creating clean spots amidst the blood and grime. Even when he heard her gasping for breath, he didn't stop. They had to get as far away from the prison as possible.

The sun was going down when he finally allowed them to stop. They made their camp on the bank of shallow stream, from which they both knelt and drank greedily. Daryl built a very small fire, just enough so they could see any immediate threats around them. With their backs to a big tree trunk, they huddled together against the growing darkness.

Daryl's mind was flying on autopilot in survival mode. Food, water, shelter, and safety. That was all that mattered right now. He couldn't let his mind wander to darker places. His survival and hers depended on it. She would need him to build fires, hunt, lead her to water, and protect her.

“You should get some rest. Tomorrow we need to find some food, maybe do some huntin'. Need some bottles we can carry water in and maybe some cans or somethin' to rig up an alarm system,” Daryl said quietly.

“We need to find the others first,” Beth demanded, “Maggie, Glenn, Rick, Carl, Judith. They had to have made it.”

“We won't be able to search for them if we're dehydrated and starvin'.”

“Daryl, what if they move on without us? We can't waste time.”

He went silent. He knew Glenn got on that bus, but he never saw if Maggie made it back before it peeled out. And Rick...he wasn't sure if Rick had even survived. He could have been killed by the Governor or eaten by walkers. No, they couldn't go back. He couldn't bear to stumble upon Rick's walker or even worse—Hershel's decapitated body. Finding Merle eating that corpse, the day he was killed, was more than enough to haunt Daryl for a lifetime.

“Beth, we don't even know if anyone else made it. Try to get some sleep. I'll take the first watch,” he said.

“Ok,” she agreed. It was the same flat, defeated tone she had used when he told her that Zach was dead.

Beth closed her eyes and soon her head slumped onto his shoulder. Daryl's eyes traced the silver chain she wore around her neck down beneath the neckline of her tank top to where the horseshoe charm lay against her breast. He knew when he saw it hanging around that walker's neck that Beth would like it. She was always telling stories about how life was before on the farm. Daryl felt horrible after yelling at her for walking in on him in the shower.  After that little fight, Beth was all he could think about.  Like some damn plague had infected all of his thoughts. He overreacted big time. Guilt filled him the minute he stormed out of her cell, but he had no idea how to approach her and make it right. It was just an accident. She didn't mean to barge in on him. But still, he didn't have a damn idea why she had stood there so long staring at him.

_Maybe she liked what she saw._

Daryl shoved the thought down as quickly as it had popped up. That was fucking ridiculous. What woman had ever looked at Daryl and liked what she saw? The women he had been with in the world before, had been disgusted by his scars or they had taken pity on him which Daryl hated even worse. His scars weren't badass ones like Rick's gunshot scar. He felt sick thinking about it all. He wondered what Beth had felt when she saw them—and she had to have seen them. Did she feel pity, disgust, or something else entirely.

Beth's blonde head was still laying on his shoulder. The warm weight of it and the soft puffs of air that tickled his bare skin felt good, comforting, and after awhile, he felt himself being lulled to sleep.

Daryl closed his eyes and let his head drop so that his cheek rested against the top of her head. She was breathing in perfect time with him now, slow and deep. He had fallen into a place somewhere between waking and sleeping, somewhere warm, somewhere where it was just him and Beth. The heat from her body covered his skin like a blanket.

_Maybe she liked what she saw._

The thought came again, curling around his brain like silk.  This time, Daryl didn't have the energy to push away the thought, or maybe he just didn't want to.

 

Beth's shrieking jolted him out of the deep lull he had sunk into.

“Dad no!” she cried, twisting in her sleep.

His heart sank down, down into the oil slick that sloshing around in his gut.

“Beth!” he called in a loud whisper.

She didn't seem to hear him and only shrieked louder. He clasped his hand over her mouth and tried to hold her still. She opened her eyes, gasping for breath. Despite what she said about not crying anymore, she dissolved into a fit of sobs.

“Beth...” he started but he didn't know how to finish. It'll be ok? Try not to think about it? As if it was easy to just forget watching a one-eyed psychopath chop your dad's head off with a sword.

Instead, he wrapped an arm around her and pushed her head into the cradle between his neck and shoulder to muffle her crying. He put his other hand against her back and traced small circles over and over because he didn't know what else to do and somehow this felt right.

Daryl hadn't had much practice comforting people. Should he tell her to grow some balls and stop crying? That's what Merle what have told him. No, that was horrible. He felt bad for even having thought it. Maybe he could try to get her to laugh. Nah, he wasn't exactly a comedian. If Rick or Michonne or Dale even, were here, they'd have some profound words of wisdom or promises of vengeance to comfort Beth with.

But, he wasn't Rick or Michonne or Dale or Maggie or Glenn. He was just Daryl, Daryl the angry, redneck asshole who dealt with his feelings by breaking things or running away from them. Poor girl, she could have escaped with anyone else and she would have been better off.  He could protect her, help her survive, but that was where his usefulness ended. He was glad their small fire had burnt down to almost nothing because his own eyes were starting to fill with tears.

 


	6. Chapter Six

Beth woke up, still leaning against the rough tree bark. A few strands had come loose from her ponytail and were stuck to the side of her face. Her eyes were crusted over from crying. Daryl was stamping out the remains of their tiny fire. He paused when he noticed Beth stirring. He reached in his vest pocket and pulled out a granola bar wrapped in a dirty green paper. He tore it open with his teeth and snapped it in half.

“Here, eat somethin'” he said.

Beth nodded and took it from him. It was warm and squishy from being in Daryl's pocket and disgustingly sugary-sweet. They drank from the stream again. Beth splashed water over her face to wash away the salty, crusty film that coated her cheeks. The cool water felt good on her skin which was already heating up in the muggy September morning.

“So what's the plan?” Beth asked.

“Follow the river upstream, try to find a crossing. If we can find a road, that'll lead to another road. Hopefully find some cars and scavenge up some supplies,” Daryl answered.

“Then what? Do you really think we should keep movin' away from the prison? What if Maggie and Rick went back?”

“Nah, they wouldn't go back there.”

“How do you know? Everyone went back to the highway after the farm was overrun.”

“This time is different.”

Daryl slung his crossbow over his shoulder and pushed on ahead, following the bank of the river. Beth stepped in behind him, staring at the ground. Their silence wore on all morning and into the afternoon and Beth found herself growing more and more irritated. Maybe it was partially from the lack of food. Mostly though, it was the silence and the lack of distractions from the thoughts that kept forcing their way into her mind. It was impossible not to dwell on her nightmare from last night.

Beth had been back on the farm, in her own bed, warm and safe, surrounded by the scent of freshly laundered sheets dried in the June breeze. The smell of bacon and toast woke her and she bounced down the stairs into the kitchen just like she did every Saturday morning.

"Mornin' Daddy," she called.

There wasn't any bacon or toast or Daddy when she stepped through the archway. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. Part of the ceiling had collapsed, leaving the stove buried under a shower of plaster and drywall. Outside of the shattered window that hung over the sink, she could see them moving, slow and broken across the fields, across the yard, like rotten flowers swaying in the wind.

Her stomach growled loudly and she began to search the cupboards for a can of beans, a box of cereal, anything. The cupboards were all full of cobwebs and spiders, but not a single thing to eat. There was one cupboard she hadn't tried yet. It was the one under the sink where they normally kept cleaning supplies. Beth bent down and tugged the little brass knob. It was stuck. She pulled as hard as she could but it was as if the cupboard was glued shut. She pressed her ear to the door. A soft rasping sound was coming from within. Beth tried the knob again. It felt hot in her hand, but it opened easily this time.

Something covered in white fur rolled out onto her lap. No, not fur, hair. At first, Beth thought it was an animal, a cat or an opossum. Empty, glazed-over blue eyes stared back at her. His white beard was stained rusty brown with dried blood. Teeth gnashed hungrily as Beth struggled to get the severed head off her lap. She flung it across the room and it shattered like a spoiled fruit. The scent of decay and rot filled her nose and mouth, choking her. She was screaming. There was blood all over her lap and her hands.

When she woke up, she was sobbing in Daryl's arms. He had pushed her head against him, probably in an attempt to muffle her sounds. That's all it was, him trying to keep her quiet while cursing his luck for having ended up with a crying little girl. Still, it felt good, felt like he cared about her even if he was only doing it to ensure their survival. The Daryl that had comforted her last night seemed to have evaporated at dawn. Now, he walked ahead of her in complete silence and rarely looked back to make sure she was still following him.

By late afternoon, they reached a bridge and a two lane country road. There were three abandoned vehicles along the road. On the bridge, there was an old green pickup. Its front end was crushed like a soda can against the guard rail. The other two cars were off in the ditch just shy of where the bridge connected with the road. It looked like they had been run off the road, probably by the green truck, and rear ended each other.

Beth slid her knife out the worn leather belt. She felt the familiar cocktail of adrenaline and anxiety tremble through her chest and settle in the pit of her stomach as her small fingers closed around the bone hilt. She went to check out the two cars while Daryl made for the truck.

The first car was devoid of humans and walkers. Both its front doors were flung open. The grass outside of the driver's side was mashed down as if something had laid there for several hours and a trail of brownish-red splotches ran from the car into the forest. The backseat and trunk of the car were packed with boxes and bags. There were a few large camping style backpacks and a small black leather backpack that Beth thought was rather stylish. The black backpack was empty except for a few sticks of gum and a half-empty bottle of perfume. The perfume smelled like the old ladies that used to go to her church, so she tossed it aside and began filling the bag with more useful supplies.

Beth found a small first aid kit, a few flashlights, some empty plastic bottles, a pack of beef jerky, and a box of tampons which would surely come in handy within the next week or so. She emptied both the camping packs and found a few M.R.E's, a canteen, a small pot and frying pan, some plastic reusable silverware, a camping store brand fire starting kit that was still in the plastic wrap, a blue tarp, and two throw blankets. Beth transferred everything into one of the camping bags.

In the trunk, she found two cardboard boxes. The first one had cans of food, peas, corn, carrots, green beans, spaghetti, and pork and beans. Beth put them all in the camping backpack. It was only about ten cans in all, but it would be more than enough to get them through until Daryl could do some hunting.

The other box was filled with clothes, both men's and women's, but mostly women's. She held up a few pairs of men's jeans trying to guess if they would fit Daryl or not. Beth had no idea what size he wore so she set them aside. She threw one pair of black sweatpants into the backpack. They had an elastic waist so she guessed they'd probably fit Daryl, although she doubted he'd want to wear them unless he was really in a pinch. Hell, if he fell into a river, he'd probably walk around in soaking wet jeans rather than wear sweatpants. Beth giggled to herself, imagining a dripping wet Daryl climbing up the river bank, yelling and swearing.

Beth also kept a few black t-shirts that looked about the right size for Daryl. He'd probably wear those, even if he had to cut the sleeves off first.

The women's clothing seemed to be of two sizes, medium and extra-large. Beth wondered if the woman who owned them had hoped that a post apocalyptic diet would help her get back into the size medium clothes. Beth took a pair of black yoga pants and a pair of skinny jeans. If they ever found someplace safe again, the yoga pants would be nice to sleep in. The jeans were a bit big in the waist, but with her belt they would stay up. She took a few tank tops, t-shirts, a sweater, and a few pairs of panties. They seemed like that had been washed and the thought of only having one pair of underwear was more gross than the thought of wearing someone else's that had been washed. Unfortunately, the few bras in the box were way too big. Beth would have to live with the pink padded one she had on.

At the bottom of the box, Beth found several pairs of what her dad would have called “daisy-duke shorts”. She held up a pair, trying to decide if she should take a few pairs. It was hot as hell during the day and it would be nice to feel the breeze on her legs.

“Don't come cryin' to me when your legs are covered in poison ivy and bug bites,” Daryl laughed.

“Jesus, Daryl! Don't sneak up on me.” She jumped and dropped the pair she was holding.

Daryl was right though, shorts weren't for tramping through the deep woods. Shorts were for laying out in the backyard on a hot July afternoon or for getting ice cream with Jimmy at the Dairy Queen. She slammed the trunk shut with more force than she meant to.

“Whatcha find?” Daryl asked.

Beth handed over the two packs and he grunted in approval as he sifted through them.

“What the hell are these?” he laughed, holding up the sweatpants.

“What do they look like, silly? They're pants,” she answered.

“Nah,” he said, tugging at his ripped jeans, “These are pants.”

“Don't ya think it would be good to have an extra pair? Ya know, for emergencies. Or if we want to wash our clothes, so you'll have somethin' to wear while they dry? Or do ya want to sit around naked while ya wait?”

“Ok, ok. I get it,” he said, his face starting to redden.

“So, what did you find?”

“Not much. Some empty beer cans and fishin' line. We can make an alarm system at least. Got another knife, a blanket, multitool, and this,” he pulled out something that was wrapped in a piece of canvas.

Metal clanked as he rolled it open. Inside were two silver slender short swords. On each sword, two short prongs curved upwards from the point where the hilt met the blade.

“You've got to be kidding me. Looks like some weapon straight out of a kung-fu movie _,_ ” she laughed.

“Not kidding. I think these would be a good weapon for ya. They're similar to the knife you're already used to using, only these will give ya a bit more reach. Ya can also defend with one while ya use the other.”

He tucked them into her belt, one on each side.

“Michonne goes around with a fucking samurai sword. It's kept her alive this long. You can use these,” he said.

Daryl had a point. The swords may have seemed like some collector piece for a comic book nerd in the world before the turn, but now they were a viable weapon, a tool for survival. Beth knew she'd never be spinning them around her fingers and doing backflips, but she figured she'd manage stabbing walkers with them just fine.

“C'mon, we should get back into the woods before nightfall,” Daryl said. He slung his crossbow over one shoulder and the camping pack over the other.

Beth put on the black leather pack and followed him. They continued to follow the bank upstream as the sun sank lower.

“Dontcha think if we stayed along the road we might have a better chance of finding the others?” Beth protested.

“Maybe, but in the woods we'll have less of a chance of runnin' into assholes like that Governor.”

He continued on without looking back. How could be so unconcerned with finding the rest of their group? Did he really believe they were the only ones that made it?

“You're a tracker. Track them,” Beth demanded.

He turned around suddenly.

“What do you want, girl? It's almost dark for fuck's sake. We need to make camp for the night.”

“We need to find the others.”

“You're unfucking-believable. You know that? You wanna go off in the dark and look for 'em, be my guest.”

His words felt like a slap across the face. He slammed down the backpack and began to clear out a space for a fire. Beth slumped down against a tree trunk. She knew she had lost this battle. Daryl tossed the cans and the string at Beth. She shot him furtive glances as she tied the cans on. She may have lost the battle, but she didn't have to pretend to agree with his decision.

After the fire was built, Daryl strung the cans around tree trunks, creating a small perimeter around their camp. Beth smoothed out the tarp and one of the blankets. At least they wouldn't be sitting in the dirt tonight. That was one tiny thing to feel good about. They shared a can of spaghetti in silence. Afterwards, Daryl sat sharpening his knife.

Beth took out her little diary and wrote a few lines.

_Daryl's being such an ass. I don't know what the hell his problem is. I don't know why he has no interest in looking for the others. I know they're out there. I know they made it._

Beth angrily threw the book down and stepped over the string of cans. When decided she was a good distance away from the camp, she undid her pants and crouched down to relieve her bladder. She finished, pulled up her pants and bumped into Daryl who was standing a few feet away from her.

“Ya shouldn't go off without someone to watch your back,” he said, avoiding looking at her face.

“How long were you standing there?”

“Long enough to make sure ya didn't become walker bait while takin' a piss.”

“Oh.”

She felt her face redden. How could she not have heard him? Was he really that sneaky or was she really that indifferent to the world around her? Either way she felt stupid, embarrassed, and a little angry.

“Get some sleep,” Daryl said once they were back in the little bubble of light the fire provided.

Beth tossed and turned for awhile on the tarp. She was exhausted but restless at the same time. It was the worst kind of feeling. They should be looking for the others. Maggie was out there somewhere. Beth was sure of it. She rolled over and pulled the blanket over her face.

“Maggie?” Beth called in a loud whisper.

She was alone in the forest. The sun illuminated the leaves and grass causing them to glow an almost sickening neon green. Everything was still, no wind, no squirrels zig-zagging through the underbrush, no birds singing in the trees. The only sound was a quiet laughter—Maggie's laughter. It grew louder and seemed to come from every direction.

“Maggie? Where are ya?” Beth called again.

She picked the direction that the laughing sounded loudest from and ran. Beth chased it, leaping over leaves and branches as swift as a deer. She came to a small, almost perfectly round lake in a clearing ringed with tall trees. Trees so tall, they disappeared into the clouds.

“Come on, Beth,” Maggie called to her.

Maggie and Glenn were swimming naked in the middle of the lake. Beth hesitated on the water's edge. The surface was glossy black and she couldn't see the bottom.

“Well are you just gonna stand there or are ya gonna come swimmin' with us?” Maggie teased, splashing water at her.

Thoughts of sweltering Julys swimming in the pond with Maggie, Shawn, and Jimmy and all the feelings those thoughts invoked came flooding back to her. She tugged her tank top over her head and slipped out of her jeans. The water was cool, but pleasantly so. Beth waded out until she couldn't touch the bottom anymore and then swam the rest of the way to Maggie and Glenn.

Maggie playfully began to splash her and she splashed back. Then Maggie started to push her head underwater. At first it was just for a few seconds. Beth would pop back up and splash Maggie hard and call her a jerk. Each time, Maggie would hold Beth's head under for a little longer, until she was holding her down for what must have been well over a minute. She needed air, but her sister wouldn't release her. Beth clawed at Maggie's forearms but her grip on Beth's shoulders only tightened.

A cold slimy pair of hands wrapped around her milky white ankle and then another pair and another until she was being pulled down into a sea of gray rotting flesh and gnashing teeth. Beth opened her mouth to scream and water rushed in.

“Damn it, Beth! Wake up!” Daryl yelled.

Cold water was pouring into her nose and mouth and down the front of her shirt. She sat up, gasping for air. Daryl was kneeling next to her on the tarp. The front of her tank top was thoroughly soaked and it was painfully obvious that she wasn't wearing her bra. She regretted taking it off before she lay down, but it was so uncomfortable to sleep in the damn thing. She also never expected to be woken up by Daryl pouring cold water over her chest.

Beth pulled the wet top over her head, making sure to keep her back to Daryl. She used one of the black t-shirts to mop the water off her breasts. Finally, she pulled one of the dry tank tops on. She laid back down on her side facing the fire. The tarp crunched as Daryl lay down behind her. His back pressed up against hers, hard and muscular. Her anger was drifting away, swept out to sea by Daryl's deep steady breaths. She felt a twinge of regret for calling him an ass in her diary. He cared enough about her to watch her back when she went to the bathroom, even if it was more than a little awkward. He also cared enough to wake her from her nightmare even though his method of doing so involved dumping water on her shirt. Those were all things to feel happy about. Beth was even starting to regain hope that she'd be able to convince Daryl to start tracking the others, now that they had supplies. She smiled and leaned against his back. Her sleep was shallow but dreamless for the rest of the night.

 


	7. Chapter Seven

They shared a can of corn for breakfast and quickly packed up. Daryl insisted that they keep following the river upstream. Beth tried a few times to talk to Daryl about tracking the others, but he either ignored her or snapped at her. She eventually grew tired of arguing and after getting only a few hours of sleep the night before, she didn't have the energy for it. They walked until late afternoon before they came across another bridge and a country road. Here, there was only a lone car and its trunk was flung open and empty. They began to scavenge it without a word to each other. Beth found more empty cans to add to their alarm system and a granola bar in the glovebox.

“Shhhh,” Daryl whispered as he crept up behind her and put a hand over her mouth.

For a moment, all she could hear was the sound of Daryl's raspy breathing. It started as a low rumble. At first she thought it was distant thunder. The sound was getting louder and closer. Growling, gurgling, moaning. Sounded like hundreds of them. Her breathing sped up. Her instinct was to run, fly through the forest, back the way they came. Daryl drew her tight to his body as if he sensed her thoughts of running. The first of them were already starting to stumble out of the forest. She smelled them before she saw them, that sickly sweet, putrid smell.

Daryl led her to the back of the car and helped her into the trunk. He climbed in after her and pulled the trunk so it was almost closed. He secured it with an elastic cable that they had scavenged from the car. He lifted his crossbow and aimed it through the crack. The walkers thudded off the metal car body. Beth feared they would tip over the car. She squeezed in between Daryl's legs and buried her face in his chest. His hand came up and lightly traced circles over her back and upper arms. His heart was thudding fast in her ear. He must have been as scared as she was. Beth slid her shaking fingers under his vest and traced the same small circles on his back.  His heart beat only seemed to ramp up though, so she stopped and curled her fingers into the front of his button down shirt.

The growls and moans kept coming late into the night. Thunder rumbled overhead, sometimes drowning them out. Rain and hail tinged off the car and a cold breeze blew in through the crack. Beth shivered against Daryl and pressed closer to him. Eventually, the sound of the walkers hitting against the car slowed down drastically. Daryl lowered his crossbow and relaxed a little, but he still kept a hand on the hilt of his knife. He squeezed Beth's upper arm. His lips ghosted over the top of her head. She couldn't tell if it was just his breath or something more, but it felt good. His heart was still racing in his chest, even though his posture had relaxed considerably.

Morning had come and with it a heavy heat and dense humidity. The places were their bare skin touched had become wet and glued together with their sweat. It had been hours since they heard the last walker bounce off the car. Daryl untied the cable and let the trunk fling open. He climbed out and hauled their bags out, then held out a sweaty palm to help Beth. She took it and jumped down.

The grass was trampled flat and hundreds of muddy footprints zig-zagged across the pavement.

“You alright?” Daryl asked.

Beth nodded and they continued into the woods, still following the river. They met a few stragglers on their way and quickly disposed of them with their knives and Beth's swords. She liked the feel of the cool steel in her hands. The swords were light weight and were easy to get into a walker's eye and back out again. They also made her feel a little badass. Of course, she knew she'd probably never be a real badass like Maggie or Daryl. Daryl smiled and nodded with approval as she easily took down another walker, stabbing it in the eye with one sword while using the other to hold it back.

They stopped late morning and got a very small fire started using the dry tinder from the fire starting kit. Beth laid down the tarp so they had somewhere dry to sit. Daryl went off to look for some “real food” as he called it. He returned with a snake in hand, peeling its skin off as he walked into camp. Beth wrinkled her nose. It was disgusting. The way the scaly brown skin rolled down revealing pink-white muscle reminded her of a wet sock being pulled down. At least it tasted better than it looked. Maybe it wasn't really all that tasty, but Beth's stomach had been rumbling all night and morning and they hadn't eaten all that much since they fled the prison.

Daryl sat in silence tearing into his snake meat. He ripped it apart with his teeth, like a wolf stripping the meat from a deer's bone. Beth's mood was going down hill again. All the chewing and grunting were wearing on her like sandpaper. Sitting around, stuffing his face when he should be helping her look for Maggie and Rick. Daryl's silence was only making things worse. Beth needed a distraction desperately, something to just make her forget, to numb her from all the thoughts that had been boiling in her brain since the prison fell.

“I need a drink,” she said finally.

Daryl licked the snake grease off his fingers, one at a time, and threw the plastic bottle of water at her. She looked at it incredulously and rolled it back to him.

“No. I mean a real drink. You know, _alcohol_ ,” she said, rolling her eyes.

Daryl stayed silent, not even turning his head to look at her.

“I've never had a drink before. My daddy never kept any in the house. I want one. To get my mind off things,” she said.

Her irritation was growing. It was rapidly becoming unbearable to sit there with Daryl.

“Fine,” she said standing up and tucking her swords into her belt, “I'll get it myself then.”

Beth crossed over their alarm system and set out through the woods, back toward the road. A group of three walkers stumbled by. She hid behind a tree and threw a rock to distract them and hurried on her way. A pair of strong hands grabbed her and pulled her close. She pushed them away and spun around to see Daryl. He took her by the wrist and dragged her back to camp. When they arrived, she jerked her hand away. She wanted to slap him.

“So what? You want to spend the rest of our lives sittin' around a fire, eating mud snakes, Daryl? Well screw you! I'm tired of this suck-ass camp! I can take care of myself. I'm going to get a drink!” The words burst forth from her and she felt a twinge of regret. She could see the hurt on Daryl's face. He turned back to the camp and put out the fire and packed up the tarp.

Beth walked back to the road. Daryl followed close behind her and eventually walked by her side, although in silence. He was pissed, but she didn't care because finally they were doing something other than following that stupid stream or sitting around a fire in silence.

They came to a large green expanse alongside the road. Beth stopped walking.

“Golfers like to booze it up, right?” she said, “C'mon.”

She led them across the golf course to the club house. They paused at the door and Daryl readied his crossbow. Beth held up one of the flashlights and together they pulled open the doors. Instantly the stench of rot overwhelmed them and Beth covered her nose with her hand. Dead bodies covered the floor. Laundry was strung up in the back of the room along with three walkers who had hanged themselves. She walked over to one of the tables. Amongst the porcelain plates of rotting food was a shinny silver spoon that said “Washington DC” and “The Capital” on it. Beth smiled and shoved it in her pocket. It was something beautiful to look at that was also useful. There weren't enough things like that these days.

Daryl began scooping up cash and jewelry off the floor in a frenzy. She didn't understand why. That shit was useless now. His hands were trembling as he swept the stuff into the pack. He was shaking like he thought any second the cops would bust in and arrest him.

Beth pressed on through the hall and passed the kitchen and a pantry. On the top of a wire rack, Beth spied a dusty wine bottle. Her eyes lit up. She shifted the flashlight to her mouth and climbed the rack. Just as she grasped the bottle, a walker grasped her leg. She screamed and smashed the bottle over its head. She stumbled backwards, but it was on her again in a matter of seconds. She reached for one of her swords, but the walker's hands kept swatting her arms away. Daryl called to her from down the hallway. She thrust the broken glass into the walker's eye over and over. Finally, she was able to reach one of the swords and drive it through its skull. It gave one last death gurgle and fell to the floor with sickly splat.

“Thanks for the help,” Beth spat.

“Ya said ya could take care of yourself,” Daryl said, “and ya did.”

The anger and anxiety melted away and she felt herself blush. The adrenaline from the fight was now fueling another fire, one lit by the way he was staring at her, a mixture of pride and awe. Beth busied herself with wiping the blood off the sword, but she could still feel Daryl's eyes on her and it only made her blush deepen.

They walked on into a what appeared to be the gift shop. More bodies littered the floor. The torso of a female corpse who's shirt had been torn open was skewered on the legs of a mannequin, near the cash register. Daryl pried open the register with his knife and began cramming stacks of cash into the backpack.

Beth tried to lay the half corpse, half mannequin down, but she couldn't move it. Thoughts of her father's body lying out there in the field with its head separated from it filled her mind and it became absolutely unbearable to look at the dismembered corpse. She didn't deserve that. No one did.

“Help me get her down,” she pleaded to Daryl.

“Don't matter. She's dead,” he said, shrugging.

“It does matter.”

He looked at Beth for a long moment and nodded.

“There,” he said gently as he draped a blue sheet over the corpse.

A clock chimed from the hallway. Walkers groaned and growled as they began to move about. Daryl grabbed her elbow and led her along a few hallways into an open room. He fired an arrow, hitting the first one that stumbled through the door. He threw his crossbow aside for a golf club and began to viciously swing at the walkers. He hit one walker so hard that the club broke off in its skull. Using the now sharpened handle, he stabbed the next two walkers in the eyes. The last walker he knocked down and brutally bashed its head in. The look on his face terrified Beth. This place was messing with Daryl's head or something. The way he was grabbing up all the money and jewelry like they were the last bits food and water on Earth and now the way he beating the walkers' heads in with a golf club, with that look on his face. Like he was enjoying it. Like it was fun or like it was payback for something in another life.

Through the next door was the bar. Beth went behind the counter and rooted around, but everything was either broken, empty, or missing. Only one half-empty bottle of peach schnapps remained. She felt defeated. She want to get falling-down drunk, not just a little tipsy. All that they went through to get here, to this stupid country club bar, suddenly seemed like a huge waste.

Daryl had taken to smashing the glass on some document that hung in a frame on the wall. What the hell was going on with him? Beth wished he would just stop. Even if he didn't want to be here with her, he could at least just _stop._ Stop breaking things, stop grabbing up every bit of useless crap, stop acting like a fucking maniac. She should have just sneaked off by herself to do this.

“Did you have to break the glass?” she asked.

“No. Did you have your drink yet?” he answered, carelessly folding the document in half and shoving it in the backpack.

“Not yet, but I found this. Peach Schnapps. Is it good?”

“No, it ain't,” Daryl told her. He began tossing darts at a picture of six or seven fat men in suits.

Beth tried to find a glass, but they were all crusted in blood.

“No problem, I'll just drink out of the bottle,” she muttered to herself.

Daryl looked over at her and then resumed throwing the darts.

Beth tried to twist the metal cap off, but it wouldn't budge. The cold metal scraped against her soft palm. Tears of frustration began to build up. All she wanted was to get drunk and not feel any of this shit anymore, but all that was left was this shitty bottle of peach schnapps, Daryl was being weird, and there wasn't a single cup clean enough to drink from. Now this piece of shit bottle wouldn't open. The feelings she had been trying so hard to push down since they left the prison surged up like vomit and she began to weep.

_Crying over a stupid bottle of peach schnapps._

Daryl flung the last dart and stormed over to her. He picked up the bottle and glared at it in disgust.

“Ain't gonna have your first drink be no damn peach schnapps,” he growled. He smashed the bottle on the floor, shattering it, “C'mon,” he said, throwing open the back door.

Beth wiped away her tears and followed him. The expression on Daryl's face had changed. The pissed off look he had all day had softened into a mixture of pity and kindness. Her heart lifted from the dark pit it had sunken into.  Now they were in this together.

 


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this is the third Beth POV chapter in a row. I promise there will be some Daryl POV coming up in the next couple of chapters. Thanks again for reading!

“Found this place with Michonne,” Daryl told her as they walked up to the small dilapidated house, “Right away I knew what is was. Cause my dad's place was just like it.”

Beth followed him up the short driveway to a little shed that was attached. Inside was a huge copper pot connected to some pipes. A wooden crate filled mason jars sat on a chair next to the door. Daryl picked up the crate and placed it in Beth's arms.

“What is all this stuff?” she asked.

“Moonshine. That's a real first drink right there,” he smirked, “C'mon.”

Inside the house, Daryl did a quick sweep to make sure no walkers had moved in since the last time he was there. The house was a mess. Laundry and toys were pouring out of two bedroom doors into the living room and trash littered every corner. Beth set the crate on the little white plastic kitchen table. Daryl found a clear plastic glass that looked like the ones they used to have in Waffle Houses and truck stop diners.

She took a seat at the table while Daryl opened one of the jars and poured it into the cup. This was certainly not the twenty first birthday celebration she always imagined she'd have. She was eighteen, not twenty-one, the friends she always pictured surrounding her as she downed shots were most likely dead or walkers, and Shawn and Maggie wouldn't be there to take care of her when she got sick and defend her from any assholes who tried to hit on her. Her dad wouldn't be there either the next morning to lecture her on responsibility.

“Somethin' wrong?” Daryl asked.

“It's Nothin'. It's just my dad always said bad moonshine could make you go blind.”

Beth shook her head, feeling a bit stupid and took a sip. It burned her nose and throat. She imagined this is what lighter fluid must taste like. It settled in her stomach, sending up a warm, floaty feeling.

“This is disgustin'” she said, scrunching up her face. She downed the rest quickly and reached over to pour another round.

“Slow down, girl. You may not feel it yet, but it'll sneak up on ya.”

“This one's for you,” she said, holding the cup out to him. Tiny bubbles of happiness were slowly forming on her brain. She wanted Daryl to share that feeling with her.

“Nah, I can't. Someone's gotta keep watch.”

“What are you my chaperone now?” She smiled at him teasingly.

“Just drink plenty of water.”

“Yes, Mr. Dixon,” she teased, almost flirtatiously.

Beth sat down next to the camouflage recliner as Daryl nailed a piece of cardboard to the window. Something hot pink in the pile of clothes caught her eye. It was a huge pink plastic bra that was filled with cigarette butts.

“Who'd go into a store and come out with this?” she laughed.

“My dad, that's who,” Daryl said. There was a hint of sadness in his voice. “He used to set it up on top of the TV and shoot at it.”

“Your dad shot things inside your house?” Beth asked.

“Just a bunch a junk, anyways,” Daryl mumbled.

Beth remembered the day in the prison showers, the way the scars crisscrossed his back. She thought of the farm too, when Daryl was thrown from Nelly and pierced with his own crossbow arrow. She had been there helping her daddy stitch him up while he was unconscious. She asked her dad what they were, what it meant, but he just gave her that long, sad stare and then pulled her close and kissed the top of her head. Her stomach turned over at the thought of Daryl's dad and the scars. She took another drink, trying to create a barrier between herself and the uneasy feeling creeping into her belly.

“Come on, Daryl, have a drink with me.” She held out her cup to him and this time he took it and downed it all. He poured her another.

A walker growled outside the window.

“Should we take care of it?” Beth asked.

“Nah, only if it makes too much noise.”

“Well, since we're going to be trapped in here for awhile, we might as well play a drinkin' game.”

“Never needed a game to get lit before.”

Beth explained the rules of the “Never have I” game and they sat down to play it. Daryl seemed reluctant, but he agreed. Beth could sense that it was partly because he felt bad that she had cried earlier at the country club.

“I never shot a crossbow,” she started.

“Ain't much of a game,” he said, taking a drink.

“That was just a warm-up. Now it's your turn.”

“I dunno.”

“Just say something, anything. First thing that pops into your head.”

“I've never been out of Georgia.”

Beth's smile faded a bit. She never knew anyone before that hadn't been out of the state at least once, whether it was to go to the theme parks in Florida, spend a weekend in Nashville, or visit relatives in Alabama or some other state.

“Really?”

Daryl nodded and Beth took a drink.

“Good one. Now it's my turn. I've never been drunk and done somethin' I regretted.”

“I've done a lotta things,” Daryl said sadly, looking down. He took a long drink. “I've never been on vacation,” he said after another long pause.

“What about camping?” Beth asked.

“Nah, that's just somethin' I had to do to survive.”

“Your dad teach ya?” she asked quietly. She felt like she was crossing into dangerous territory, but the drink had made her bolder. Slowly, she was getting him to open up to her. Her brain raced trying to think of “never have I's”to get him to divulge more about his past.

Daryl nodded again.

“I've never been in prison. Well, as a prisoner,” she said without thinking she might offend him.

“Is that whatcha think of me?” he asked. His eyes grew cold.

God, she was so stupid. She wished she could pull those words back out of his ears and shove them down her throat.

“Well, I mean even my dad got locked up in the drunk tank back in the day,” she said quickly, trying to erase some of the anger caused by her earlier words. “Oh wait, were you a prison guard before? Is that what ya did?”

Daryl stared coldly at her before telling her to drink. He stumbled to his feet.

“Gotta take a piss,” he yelled.

He staggered across the room, dropping the mason jar half way.

“Daryl, we gotta be quiet,” Beth pleaded.

He unzipped his pants and started pissing all over the kitchen wall. Beth looked away, feeling embarrassed.

“What was that? Can't hear ya I'm taking a piss!” he yelled, louder.

The walker outside growled louder, becoming agitated by Daryl's shouting.

“Daryl, please.”

“Never ate no frozen yogurt. Never had a pet pony. Never got nuthin' from Santa. Never sung out in front of a big group, like everything was fun. Never relied on anyone for protection. Never relied on anyone for anything! And I sure as hell never cut my wrists looking for attention!”

_Is that whatcha think of me?_

Beth stared at her empty cup. How did things escalate so quickly? She should have never suggested this stupid game. She probably should have just forgot about getting a drink the first time Daryl brought her back to their camp. She should have just sat down by the fire and had a second helping of mud snake and never said another word about getting a drink.

“Hey, you never shot a crossbow before? Well it's time you learn.”

Daryl scooped up his crossbow and dragged her by the elbow out the back door and down the wooden steps.

“C'mere ya stupid bastard!” he called to the walker.

Daryl shot it in the chest and loaded another arrow.

“C'mon, Greene, it's your turn,” he growled. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her to his chest.

Beth jerked her wrist away.

“Daryl, I don't know how.”

“It's easy, c'mon.”

Daryl grabbed at her again. His hands were going all over her body as he struggled to pull her and hold her against his chest. He wrapped his arm around her breasts and held her to his body. She winced in pain as his fingers dug in the soft flesh there. He fired another arrow. She could feel his hot breath on her cheek. It reeked of alcohol. His hips bucked against her ass as he fired the next arrow. The movement caused her to grind her ass against him. Whether it was reflex or something more, she didn't know. He groaned in her ear and pushed her away so he could load up another arrow. The third arrow also pierced the walker's chest.

“Go on, Greene, pull them arrows out so we can have some more target practice.”

“Daryl stop! Just kill it!”

Beth cut him off before he could pull the arrows out and stabbed the walker through the forehead.

“What the hell ya do that for? I was having fun,” he growled.

“No, you were being a jackass! Killing them isn't supposed to be fun,” she sobbed, “If anyone found my dad...”

Her voice broke. Tears were running down her cheeks, creating clean trails through the dirt and walker blood. Daryl's eyes flashed dangerously.

“No. This ain't remotely the same,” he said, his voice trembling slightly.

“It is the same.”

“What the hell you want from me, girl?”

“I want you to stop pretendin' like you don't give a crap. Like none of the stuff we went through mattered. Like none of the people we lost mattered. It's bullshit!”

“Is that what you think?” he asked, his voice was shaking again.

Beth pulled her shoulders back and moved so there was only a few inches between their faces. She felt as if she was growing, tall as an old oak tree, and strong too. Daryl on the other hand seemed to be shrinking before her, cowering like one of the mice in the barn when she flung open the doors to go for a ride.

“That's what I know,” her voice was strong as steel, smooth, steady, and unbreaking as she said it.

“You don't know nuthin'.” Daryl turned his body away from her.

“I know you look at me and just see another dead girl. I'm not like you. I'm not Michonne. I'm not Carol. I'm not Maggie. But I survived. You don't get it, but I made it,” she said confidently. She moved closer to him as he backed away towards the house. “I think you're afraid.”

“I ain't afraid of nuthin'.”

“I remember. I remember when that little girl came out of the barn after my mom. You were like me then. And now God forbid you let anyone get too close,”

“You're one to talk. Lost two boyfriends and ya can't even shed a tear! Everyone we know is dead and you're off chasing hooch like some dumb college bitch! And if they ain't dead, don't matter we ain't never gonna find them again. Rick. You ain't never gonna see Maggie again.”

Daryl turned away from Beth again, moving closer to the house. Beth followed him. His words stung like hell as they bounced off her skin, but she wouldn't let them push her away. Not this time.

“The Governor, he rolled right up to our gates. Maybe, maybe if I wouldnta stopped looking. Maybe if I woulda took that shot. Maybe your dad...That's on me!”

She knew he cared. She always knew. She just wanted him to know it, wanted him to let himself feel something. His back was still to her. He was sobbing now. Beth hesitated for half a second. A tendril of fear shot up through her belly. Fear of what? Fear that he'd push her away? She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his back, right in between the wings on his vest.

Daryl swayed forward and for a moment Beth thought he was pulling away, but he swayed back and leaned against her body. They stayed like that for a long time.

Eventually, they sank to the ground, leaning their backs against the rust red wood siding. Daryl was still crying, mostly in silence but every so often a sob would escape him. Beth held his head against her chest. Her fingers lightly traced circles over his back and neck and occasionally twisted through his hair. One of his hands was fisted into the front of her shirt so tightly that the pale pink of her bra was peeking through the neckline of her tank top. His other arm was wound around her back with his hand resting on her hip. Her chest was shiny with his tears and her face was shiny with her own. Every time he sobbed, Beth gently kissed the top of his head, the way her mom used to when she was upset. She did it so gently though, she wasn't even sure if he noticed. Either way, he made no effort to stop her or pull away.

Before all this, Beth had thought she needed Daryl more than he needed her. She needed him to help her survive and protect her. Daryl needed her too. She saw that now.

 


	9. Chapter Nine

Night fell and Daryl and Beth went to sit up on the porch. Beth had a few more drinks, but Daryl was done. He had already made a big enough ass of himself for one day. He didn't know why she was even still here with him. He had screamed at her, given her drunken crossbow lessons, during which he had practically groped her, and finally he had cried into her shirt for a few hours like a little girl. One more night of drunken regrets to add to the hundreds of others.

“I know why my dad quit drinkin', she laughed. Her face looked even paler in the moonlight and half of it was in shadow.

“Feel sick?” Daryl asked.

“Nope. I wish I could feel like this all the time. And that's _bad_.”

The playful, almost ecstatic way she said it sent a shiver through him. He looked away, remembering the way she had pushed her ass against his hips during their drunken crossbow lesson and the involuntary reaction it had caused in his body. He had to push her away to make sure she didn't feel it.

_I wish you could feel like this all the time. I wish I could make you feel like this all the time._

The thought popped into his mind, but he quickly batted it away. It was the moonshine talking, nothing else.

“You wanna know what I was doing before, before all this?” he asked, “The answer is nothin'. I was just driftin' around with Merle, doin' whatever he said we'd be doin' that day. I was nothin'. Just a redneck asshole with an even bigger asshole for a brother.”

He held his breath, waiting for her reaction to that. He had tried to avoid talking about his life before the turn as much as possible. Rick, Glenn, even Carol knew next to nothing about his life before and he had refused to spill his secrets to Zach no matter how much the kid pestered him about it. Yet here he was now, still half-drunk on moonshine pouring his guts out to Beth.

“You miss him, dontcha?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

“I miss Maggie, miss her bossin' me around. I miss my dad,” she said. Her voice shook with the last few words. Her eyes were sparkling with wetness. “I thought it'd be different. I thought Maggie and Glenn would have a baby and he'd get to be a grandpa. And we'd have birthdays and summer holidays and picnics. And he'd get old, real old, and it'd happen. But it'd be quiet.” She brushed a tear away with the back of her hand. “That's how incredibly stupid I was.”

“No, not stupid. That's how it's supposed to be.”

Daryl wished it would have been different for Merle too. He wished Merle had never gotten left behind on that rooftop, wished he'd still been there when they went back for him, wished they could have found him before he got tangled up with the Governor.

“I wish I could just change,” Beth said.

“You have,” he said firmly. She wasn't Michonne or Carol or Maggie, but she was strong. She could handle herself against walkers and she was a decent shot. It wasn't her fault Rick and the rest of the group had put her on babysitting duty instead of sending her on runs. Whether she knew it or not, he trusted her to watch his back just the same as he trusted any of the others.

“Not enough. Not like you. It's like you were made for how things are now.”

“Growing up in a place like this, guess I'm just used to things bein' ugly.” He stabbed the point of his knife into the wooden railing.

“You've got to put that away. It's who you were, not who you are. Places like this...,” she said defiantly. She moved so she was sitting side by side with him. He could smell the alcohol heavy on her breath. “Places like this, you've got to put them away. In here.” She took his hand in her smaller ones and pressed it against her chest. He could feel her heart thudding beneath the pale, dirty skin. It wasn't racing like his was. Its beat was slow, steady, controlled. He pulled his hand back.

“What if I can't?”

“You've got to or it kills you. You've got to stay who you are, not who you were.”

Her face was inches away from his and she was staring him down with that same defiant look from earlier in the yard. He looked away to hide the color that he didn't understand why was creeping into his face.

“Maybe I need you to keep remindin' me sometimes,” he said so quietly, that he wasn't sure if he had said it aloud or if it was just a thought.

“No. Can't rely on anyone for anything, remember? I'll be gone someday,” she said confidently.

“No, don't--” he didn't want to hear it. He didn't want to believe it. He wouldn't let that happen. He could protect her. Hell, she could protect herself. He pressed a finger to her lips to silence her. She seemed to understand and didn't try to argue with him anymore about it.

“I think I'll have one more,” she said. She disappeared into the house.

The night was clear and slightly chilly, but a welcome relief from the heat of the day. Stars peeked over the edge of the metal porch roof. Daryl squinted his eyes, searching for the constellation of Orion. Beth returned with another mason jar and stumbled to her knees.

“Whatcha lookin' at?” she asked.

“There, it's Orion and the seven sisters,” he said pointing to a cluster of stars.

She flopped down onto her back and let her head drop onto his thighs. Her blonde ponytail spilled across his jeans.

“There?” she asked, stretching her arm up towards the black sky.

“No, there,” he corrected, moving her hand down a bit.

“So you did read it?”

Daryl grunted and nodded.

“And? Did ya like it?”

“What's to like? It's about a pervert chasing some girls through the woods.”

She turned her head in his lap to look at him.

“You don't get it, Daryl. It's more than that. It's about desire. It's about bein' so passionate about something or someone that you'd follow them to the ends of the earth. Never stop, not even in death.”

“Sounds more like obsession than passion.”

He turned her words over in his brain. He still didn't see it quite that way, probably never would, but it was nice that Beth didn't share his view of a what he considered a shitty situation. She sat up and tipped her head back, downing the last of the moonshine. The strands of her messy hair brushed against her skin where the tank top left it naked in the night air.

“C'mon, we should go inside,” he said, standing and offering his hand to help Beth up.

“No. We should burn it down,” she laughed. A smile was widening across her face. She had that crazed look in her eyes which were no longer wet with tears. Frizzy blonde hair had escaped from her ponytail and was sticking out in every direction.

_Wild woman._

“We're gonna need more booze,” he said.

They used everything that was left, splashing the bottles on the walls, floors, ceilings, onto the dumpster chair, the bra ashtray, the mounds of clothes spilling out of the bedrooms. Outside, he handed Beth a book of matches.

“You wanna?” he asked, already knowing what her answer would be.

“Hell yeah I do,” she grinned. She struck the match and held it to bundle of money Daryl held out for her.

The shack went up in a brilliant blaze. Daryl tossed the last jar of shine onto the porch for good measure. Everything was burning down to nothing, a cleansing by fire. His dad, the scars on his back, all those drunken nights with Merle, all those days of being nothin' to no one. Beth had raised her middle finger to the burning house. She nudged his arm and indicated wordlessly for him to do the same.

They stood there, basking in the heat from the fire, middle fingers raised defiantly against the past, no against his past. The flames danced across the black surface of her pupils. That wild look was creeping into her face again, tugging the corners of her lips into an impish grin.

Walkers began to fill the side yard, drawn by the fire.

_Time to go._

As if she could hear his thought she whispered, “Bet you can't catch me,” before darting off into the darkness.

She was faster than he would have thought and nimble too. She moved through the trees like a deer, swift, quiet, dodging branches and leaping over roots. She had a good head start on him, but he could see that golden ponytail of hers bouncing in the darkness. He could overtake her. He knew how to move through the woods better than she did.

“Get back here, girl!” he called after her.

They had been running for a good half hour or so. Daryl was winded. He had no idea how she could keep up her pace. He trudged on after stopping to catch his breath for a minute. At this point, she was so far ahead of him, he could no longer see her. He found her tracks amongst the leaves and followed them onward.

The treeline broke at the edge of a corn field. In the east, the sky was pinkening and an orange line was glowing at the horizon. Beth had stopped at the edge of the forest. He crept up behind her. Take her by surprise before she can start running again. His fingers stretched out, aching for the soft skin of her shoulder. The orange-red light at the horizon had grown and was bathing the field and Beth in its glow.

Beth turned her head slowly, as if she could sense his presence. Her eyelashes fluttered and her lips parted. She looked surreal in this light, like some kind of fire nymph, the way her skin and hair were all shades of orange and red—the color of a candle flame in the dark, fresh blood pooling from a wound, the rusty red of the dried blood on their clothes and all the burning hot colors of the fire they made together.

Is this how Orion felt just before the seven sisters were turned into birds? Was she going to turn into one and fly away? Disappear like the stars in the morning sun? Burn up like the dew drops that clung to the grass beneath their feet? He lowered his hand, scared to touch her.

_I ain't afraid of nothin'._

_I think you are._

It was her voice that whispered the second thought.

“Beth,” he breathed, his voice heavy and gravelly.

She didn't say anything, just turned back to the east where the sun was climbing above the horizon. Her hand found his, their fingers lacing together. Her hand was cool and moist, but solid. The field was burning in the red-orange glow. Beth was burning in it too.

“Have you ever seen anythin' so beautiful?” Beth asked.

“Nah. Never,” Daryl answered.

He wasn't looking at the field though, or the sunrise.

 


	10. Chapter Ten

The sun had risen high above the horizon by the time they finally laid down in the covered bed of an old pickup. The adrenaline from the fire and the chase had worn off and they were exhausted from another night without sleep. Daryl pulled the two corpses out of the cab of the truck and dropped them in front of the tailgate. Hopefully, the stench of them would keep away walkers. Beth spread out the tarp and one of the blankets over the oily floor of the bed. He opened the back window hatch a crack to let in the breeze and propped his crossbow up next to him so it would be at arm's reach if they needed it.

Beth's chest was slowly rising and falling in her sleep. Daryl laid on his back next to her. In the daylight, she looked solid. Daryl reached over and touched a hand to her shoulder just to make sure. Her skin had returned to its normal paleness now that it was no longer colored by the rising sun. Purple, gray-blue half moons were beginning to form under her eyes from the lack of sleep. A shiver of guilt ran through Daryl. He should have tried harder to find a house or something where she could have gotten more sleep. He was used to sleeping on the ground out in the open. He was used to going days without sleep. She wasn't as used to those things. He should have taken better care of her.

Daryl's body wouldn't let him sleep and his mind was too busy making lists. They would need more food soon and they should probably find a creek or something to wash up in. They were both starting to really stink. With the coming Fall, he could hunt a deer, but it would be best if they had some place to hole up and take their time to smoke the meat so it would last into the winter. They needed somewhere safe to pass the colder season. The nights were already growing cooler. In a month or so it would be really uncomfortable to sleep outside and if they got freezing rain it'd be even worse.

Beth rolled onto her side and her arm fell across Daryl's chest. He knew she wanted to keep searching for Rick and Maggie and the others. She believed with all her heart that they were still out there. Part of him wanted to believe it too, but right now, he needed to focus on their survival. Find a place to hole up for the winter. Maybe find some maps of the area. They could keep looking for the others, but they would do it in a controlled way, with a base to go back to. He went over his list a few more times until he fell into a dreamless sleep.

He awoke a few hours later to sound of men's voices arguing. Immediately, he grabbed his crossbow and crawled to the tailgate where he had the window cracked. In the distance, a group of about ten men were standing around what looked to be a dead deer. They had their backs to the truck. Daryl went to shake Beth awake, but she was already up, folding up the blanket and tarp as quietly as she could. Daryl carefully lowered the tailgate and slid out, Beth right behind him. He guided her around the side of the truck.

“It's mine! I shot it!” one of the men yelled.

“Well I claimed it!” another yelled back.

A gunshot rang out scattering the crows that were hiding amongst the dried husks in the field. A few seconds later another shot followed. Daryl nodded at her and they made a dash across the lawn, into the corn field, running back into the forest. They didn't stop until a group of three walkers cut them off. Daryl took out one with his crossbow, while Beth stabbed another through the forehead with one of her short swords. The third one came at Beth and pinned her up against a tree. It had knocked the sword out of her hand and she was fighting to pull her knife from her belt. Daryl drove his hunting knife through the back of its head and threw it aside.

Beth slumped over, catching her breath and bent to retrieve the dropped sword. They waited and listened. Birds sung in the trees, but other than that it was quiet. Daryl put his hand on the middle of her back and they continued on. Around mid-afternoon they had found another stream. They followed it until it ran into a small river and finally into a lake.

Beth shivered as they walked into the clearing. The lake was almost perfectly round and ringed by tall trees on all sides. No waves waves rippled its glassy black surface. He couldn't hear the birds anymore or the sounds of walkers trampling through the dead leaves. The lake had a single dock, but there wasn't a boat to be seen. A small shack stood about twenty feet back from the bank. A sign on the side of it said, “Frank's Ice Cream and Snacks”. The shack was open on the front side with only a counter.

Inside there were a few cupboards, filled mostly with paper goods. The only food object in any of the cabinets was a giant pump bottle of ketchup. It must have been the off-season when the virus broke out. He strung up their can alarm system around the outside of the shack and laid out their tarp behind the counter. They could build a fire near the side of the building, outside the door that led behind the counter. They wouldn't have a bed, but at least the shack provided a roof in case it decided to rain. They could also wash up in the lake. Still, it wasn't the ideal place to spend the winter. Daryl decided they would move on after a day or two.

Beth was standing by the lake's edge almost like she was transfixed. He approached her slowly and put his hand on her shoulder.

“Beth? You alright?” he asked gently. She didn't turn around.

“Yeah, it's just this place...”

Daryl grunted. There was something not quite right about this lake. The way that the water was so smooth and black and how the sounds of the birds and squirrels had stopped. He had planned on hunting up a few squirrels, but he wasn't sure he'd find one within five miles of this strange place.

“We'll move on in the morning,” he told her, giving her shoulder a squeeze. Her skin always felt so soft, even when it was caked in grime and walker blood.

They found a couple ratty towels and a bottle of hand soap in one of the cabinets and Daryl managed to talk Beth into washing up in the lake. She would normally jump at the chance to clean herself up, but she hesitated here. Her lack of enthusiasm for bathing in the lake made him uneasy. He was sure she would feel better though once she was clean.

“It'll be ok. Jus' stay close to the shore. I'll be right behind you, watchin' your back,” Daryl promised her.

She nodded. She still looked terrified. She was holding something back, but she didn't seem to want to talk about it. Her hands were shaking as she laid out a change of clothes and one of the towels. He put a hand on her upper back and rubbed it.

“I'll be right here,” he assured her again.

Beth started to pull her filthy tank top over her head and Daryl quickly turned around, but not before catching a glimpse of the smooth flat skin above the waist of her jeans. He heard the clanking of her belt buckle as she undid it, the sound of her kicking off her jeans and finally the soft swoosh as she waded into the water.

“How's the water? Freezin'?” he called over the pounding that was steadily ramping up inside his head. It felt like there was an invisible hook in his navel, pulling at him, trying to get him to turn around.

“No. It's almost warm...” she said.

He could hear the tremble in her voice. He shot a quick look at her over his shoulder. She had her back to him, so he risked a longer glance. Currents of electricity surged through his chest, his stomach, and lower, until it felt like there was a tiny lightening storm buzzing around him.

Her hair fell in a golden tangle all the way down to her waist. Had it always been so long? He remembered it being much shorter when they were living at the prison. Or had he just never seen it not tied up in that ponytail? His eyes followed it down to where the ends brushed against the small of her back and then down lower over the round curve of her ass. He remembered the way it felt when she had pushed it against him that night he had held her against his body, emboldened by moonshine. Images of their drunken crossbow lesson shot through his brain, only in these images she was naked.

The black surface rippled as her milky thighs glided through it, wading deeper. Daryl's heart was now beating an unbearably loud tempo in his brain. His head was spinning. He managed to rip his gaze from Beth, but as soon as he did, his eyes began to water. What the hell was wrong with him? She was beautiful, but so what? Merle had brought home plenty of girls that could be considered pretty and he'd never felt the desire to peek at them when they were putting their clothes back on.

The little invisible hook was pulling at him again. He turned his head slowly. His body moved easily despite the brick wall of logical thoughts his mind was trying to throw up around him. Beth tilted her head back, her hair spilling across the inky black surface like golden silk. Daryl traced the soft curve of her neck down to where the silver horseshoe charm hung between her small breasts. He could just make out the pink of her nipples beneath the water's surface. He tasted blood on his tongue. He had been biting his lip so hard it had begun to bleed.

Every one of his instincts was pushing at his insides, telling him to run—but which way? Back up to the shack or into the water? He imagined himself wrapping his hands around her thighs, lifting her up out of the water, her legs spread wide against his hips. Daryl couldn't run, even if he wanted to, his feet had grown roots and his bones felt impossibly heavy. Besides, he promised he would watch her back. If something happened to her, he'd never forgive himself. But the pounding in his head was intense. He swayed on his feet. The muscles in his legs felt like jelly and he knew he was visibly shaking.

Beth screamed, shattering the eerie quiet and whatever spell that had ahold of him was broken. The pounding instantly halted and his legs felt stable again. Without a second of hesitation, he splashed into the water. The lake was ice cold. He shivered as at the back of his mind, he remembered Beth saying it felt warm. Daryl hooked his arms under her knees and around her back.

“Daryl! They've got my leg!” Beth screamed.

Fingernails dug into the back of his neck and chest as she flailed in his arms. Something was caught on her leg, but with a few hard tugs, he freed her from whatever it was. Beth sounded like she was hyperventilating into his shoulder. He put her down on the gravelly shore and knelt to examine her legs. He felt like laughing when he saw what was wrapped around her ankle.

“Beth, look,” he said, “It's just seaweed.”

“It's not funny, Daryl,” she sobbed.

He knelt down and cut it away with his hunting knife. The tendril was wrapped thick and tight almost all the way the way up her knee.

“Damn. Ya really got yourself tangled,” he grumbled.

“At least I'm not wearing soaked jeans,” she laughed, wiping away the last of her tears, “Guess someone's going to need a certain pair of sweatpants,” she continued, her grin widening.

“Like hell I will,” Daryl grunted as he hacked away the last bit of seaweed, freeing her leg. She was right though, his jeans were thoroughly soaked.

Daryl allowed himself to look up. He quickly skimmed the length of her naked body, eyes pausing only long enough to see that she had covered herself with her hands. He met her eyes. They were glossy with fear and little red veins were beginning to crisscross outwards from the corners.

"You're bleedin'," Beth said, the laughter fading fast from her voice.

He used all his strength to keep his eyes focused on her face as she removed one of her hands from the skin it covered and brushed her fingers across his bottom lip.

"Ain't nothin'," Daryl mumbled, "Get dry lips all the time."

He gently pushed away her hand and sucked on his lip.

“Daryl, I don't wanna stay here tonight,” she said quietly. The laughter was now completely gone from her voice.

That uneasy feeling was growing again from some deep pit in his stomach. His mind kept snapping back to the pounding in his head as he watched Beth bathing in the lake and the way he felt like he couldn't look away. It made him feel sick and ashamed. The light was fading fast and the thick trees that surrounded the lake made it seem all that much darker. If they didn't get a fire started soon, they wouldn't be able to see a damn thing out here.

“We'll leave first light. I don't like this place either, but I'm not gonna have us stumblin' around in this thick brush after dark.”

He scooped up the towel and threw it to her. He went back up to the shack without another look at Beth.

 


	11. Chapter Eleven

“I know why this place seems familiar,” Beth said, her feet dangling over the side of the counter.

She had dressed again, skinny jeans and a pale blue tank top. She sat brushing the knots out of her still-wet hair with her fingers as she hummed some sad sounding tune. To Beth's satisfaction, Daryl had changed into the black sweatpants while his jeans dried over the counter.

“Why's that? Been here before?” he asked curiously, looking up from the pile of twigs he had been arranging in front of him. 

“Yeah,” she said, “In a nightmare.”

“Are ya sure? This same place?”

“I wasn't at first.”

“How did ya know?”

“I—It's silly.”

“C'mon, can't be any crazier than the time I saw that chupacabra.”

“When I was in the lake, I thought I heard her laughing.”

“Her?”

“Maggie. And then somethin' grabbed my legs just like in my dream. Everything looks the same, the lake, the tall trees, the way the water looks so black.”

Daryl grunted.

“Somethin' ain't right about this place. Too quiet.”

They still hadn't heard a damn thing all evening, not a bird, raccoon, walker, nothing.

Daryl got the fire going and they shared a can of green beans. Beth had most of them. He hated green beans.

Night descended as quick and black as a spider scurrying down a wall. The night there was a silent as the day—no crickets, no frogs, nothing. It was a good thing that he had gotten the fire going when he did. Outside of the bubble of light it provided, Daryl couldn't see a damn thing. Beth refused to sleep and insisted on taking first watch (although Daryl doubted she would wake him for second watch). So he laid down in between the cupboards and the counter. Beth sat next to him, her swords out and on her lap.

“Wake me if ya hear anything,” Daryl grunted. He turned onto his side, facing Beth.

“Don't worry. I will. Now get some sleep. You're pale as hell. Ya have been ever since you pulled me out of the lake,” she told him.

He wasn't at all surprised by her comment. Even though the pounding in his head had stopped, he still felt nauseous and light headed. Every time he closed his eyes, images of Beth flashed in his brain, flickering and racing like a movie in a dark theater. It wasn't just the ones from today either. He saw her the night she came into his cell wearing only those tiny pink shorts and the ones from a few nights ago when he woke her by pouring water on her. He could see her bare legs sliding across the rough green blanket at the prison and the hard points of her nipples poking through the thin wet cloth of her tank top. He could see her naked back illuminated by the firelight as she pulled the wet top off over her head. He pulled the blanket up to his chest to hide what was happening—or had already happened in his pants.

This was getting fucking ridiculous. Maybe they should head back towards the prison in hopes of finding their group. He wasn't sure he could take it much longer—being out here just the two of them. He knew it was partially because of this place, it was haunted, cursed, or something, but it was more than that. Daryl liked her, even back at the prison, but he never allowed himself these kind of thoughts about her. Here, those thoughts ragged through his mind in an unrelenting flood. He needed Rick and the others; he needed the distraction that being with the group provided.

His eyes shot open at the feeling of Beth's fingers against his hair. She pulled her hand back.

“Sorry. I thought--” she stuttered, looking away.

“'s ok,” he said, sucking in a breath, “Felt good.”

The words felt strange falling out of his mouth. He wanted her to keep touching him.

_I never relied on anyone for anything._

Yet, he was relying on Beth now. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

He let his eyelids flutter closed again. Her fingers found their way back to his hair, lightly stroking, rubbing little circles across his scalp, and occasionally absentmindedly twisting a strand of hair. He wondered if she'd like this too, remembering the way she had laid her head across his lap at the moonshine shack. He drifted off to sleep thinking that it might be nice to try it some time.

Daryl sat up to find himself alone in the shack, still bathed in the warm glow of the fire that burned just outside the door. Female voices whispered and laughed from the shore of the lake. Daryl crept over the fire and through the dew-soaked grass and pressed his back against a nearby tree. Carefully, he peered around the side of it. A mist was rising up from the still, glossy black surface of the lake.

There had to be six or seven of them. Splashing and laughing and singing. All covered in shadows, nothing more than silhouettes of women, each with two pinpoints of light sparkling like stars for eyes. Only one was left naked by the shadows. Beth. She was lounging on a rock jutting out over the water, a slender leg dangling lazily over the edge, her toes just kissing the midnight surface. His eyes moved up her leg to where it joined her body. Her naked skin was glowing with an inner light, brighter than the full moon. Waves of golden blonde hair cascaded over her bare shoulders. She threw her head back and laughed at something one of the others said. The sound of it sent goosebumps racing across his skin.

“Beth?” he whispered, stepping out from his hiding place, crossbow raised—except it wasn't his crossbow, but a simple curved piece of wood with a bowstring.

He pulled an arrow from the quiver on his back and drew the string tight, aiming at the shadowed women. They began to scream and flew off into the dark like crows, shattering the still of the lake. Beth screamed too and jumped down from the rock and fled into the trees.

“Damn it, Beth! Gettin' real sick of chasin' ya!” he yelled into the darkness.

Branches tore at his skin and smacked his face as he ran after her. It was difficult to maneuver through the thick growth. How the hell was she so fast? No matter, she would run out of breath sooner or later. He pushed on. He was gaining on her. He could see her hair bouncing against the black, just ahead. Daryl broke into a sprint, closing the distance between them. He stumbled over a root, fingers outstretched, reaching for that shining mane. His fingers tingled as they brushed against a few loose strands. He had her now. His fist closed around a handful of her hair. Together they tumbled to the ground.

The handful of hair was replaced by a handful of fur. In front of him, a white doe was rising on nimble legs. She turned and looked at him, drinking in the sight of him sprawled on his stomach with her large glassy eyes, eyes as black and deep as the lake. And then she was bounding away through the trees, her white coat almost glowing in the darkness.

Daryl growled and was off after her again. This time she wouldn't get away. His legs burned and his chest heaved, but still he chased her. She was slowing down again. Good. He raised the bow and aimed. The chase would end here, he decided. The twang of the bowstring rang out in the night, cutting the silence as the arrow flew through the forest. Cherry-red blood gushed out, staining the clean white fur as the arrow pierced her neck. Her legs tangled and went out from an under her.

Daryl lowered the bow as a wave of triumph washed over him. The smell of blood hung heavy in the night air. He could almost taste the metallic bite of it on his tongue. His mouth watered hungrily as he slipped through the forest like a tiger to collect his kill, but his prize was gone.

Beth lay naked on the dead leaves. She was lying on her side, fingers and legs outstretched. Crumbled leaves and broken twigs had tangled in her hair which had become frizzy during the chase. The arrow stuck straight up from the side of her neck. Steam rose from the blood that poured from her wound. The wave of triumph was sucked back out to sea, replaced by utter terror. He lifted her head. Maybe he could pull the arrow out. She stared up at him with sad glazed-over blue eyes. A cold laughter echoed through the woods.

All around him the shadow figures were emerging from the trees. They shrieked and cried, rushing to Beth's side. They took the forms of the women from the group—Maggie, Michonne, Carol, Sasha, Lori, and Andrea. Lori took Beth's head in her lap and examined the wound, her hands quickly becoming bloodied. Carol and Sasha knelt on either side of Lori, trying to stop the bleeding. The other three women rounded on Daryl.

“What the fuck did you do?!” Maggie roared, shoving Daryl hard.

“You sick bastard,” Michonne said quietly as she pulled her katana from its sheath.

“I can't do anything, she's losing too much blood. We need Hershel!” Carol cried.

“You shot my sister, you asshole!” Maggie yelled. She shoved him again.

“No, it ain't like that! I didn't mean to! I was jus' huntin'!” Daryl tried to explain.

“You are unbelievable, Daryl,” Andrea started, “Amy's dead because of you too. If you hadn't left with Rick to get your redneck piece of shit brother, she might still be alive.”

“Ya can't blame me for Amy's death! How was I supposed to know the camp was gonna be attacked?!” he yelled back.

“She's dead! Beth's dead!” Sasha called.

“No, no, jus' pull the arrow out!” Daryl begged.

Lori glared at him with that pissed-off look she normally reserved for Shane or Rick. Carol was sobbing over Beth's body. Both of their arms were covered in Beth's blood up to their elbows. Sasha was staring down the scope of a sniper rifle that was pointed straight at his head.

Michonne held her katana to his throat. Andrea raised her pistol. Maggie pushed them both aside.

“No. She was my sister. I'll do it,” Maggie said. She raised her gun.

Daryl's head was throbbing again. Drops of sweat soaked his hair and mixed with the tears that were running down his face. He felt the cold metal barrel of Maggie's gun between his eyes. Her green eyes burned into his gray-blue ones, melting them into pools of water.

_Do it._

Daryl awoke drenched in sweat. His breath was coming in heavy pants like he had actually been chasing someone. The fire had gone out. He couldn't see a damn thing. He groped around in the darkness next to him, feeling for Beth. Nothing. Just blankets and the tarp.

“Beth?” he whispered.

Maybe she just went for a piss. His heart was still racing and he was only getting more anxious by the second. Something cold and wet nuzzled against his cheek. Two glassy black eyes regarded him with a mild curiosity. The pounding in his head had returned. He shuddered as the warmth was sucked out of the shack.

Daryl's eyes flew open. He was still breathing hard, but the fire was lit again. Beth's knife and short swords were laying on the tarp next to him. The panic from the dream returned and he was on his feet and climbing over the counter, screaming her name.

Relief washed over him when he didn't have to look far. Beth was standing at the end of the dock, staring out across the water. He ran to her, still calling her name. He had to make sure she was real, that this was real. She turned as he called to her. When he reached her, he wrapped his arms around her and held her against his body.

“Daryl?” she said, studying him curiously, like she was trying to read his mind.

“The hell are ya doin' out here, huh?” he growled.

“I heard it. The laughing.”

“So ya just go out there and leave your weapons behind?”

“I—I just wasn't thinkin' I guess.”

She was paler than usual and her skin felt cold. Whatever this place was, it was fucking with her head too.

“C'mon, let's go get warm and wait for it to get light out,” he said, “This place, it's haunted or somethin'.”

Yes, that was the only explanation. That had to be why he was having all those dirty thoughts about Beth, having weird dreams, and why Beth had been acting so strange too. This place was haunted by a ghost, or a chupracabra, or a demon, or something.

Daryl thought she might laugh at that, but she didn't. She surely felt it too. He kept his arm around her shoulder as he led her back inside. He draped the blanket around their shoulders as they leaned against the wall.

“Did ya sleep at all?” Beth asked.

“Nah. Not really. Nothin' but nightmares,” he said, shaking his head.

“What about?”

They stared at each other for a long moment. Her eyes were clear and as blue as the sky on summer afternoon. Her pupils, however, were as glassy and as deep as the white deer's.

“Oh,” she breathed, seeming to understand.

Her head dropped onto his shoulder and her fingers laced through his.

“It's ok, Daryl. I'm still here.”

 


	12. Chapter Twelve

They stayed like that until the sun came up, neither of them daring to sleep again. Daryl spent the rest of the night squeezing her hand as if the ground was about to open up any second and pull her in. He wouldn't tell her what he had dreamed about, but Beth had a feeling she knew what it was about. The way he had come running onto the dock screaming her name and the way he had pulled her against his body, made her guess that she had either died or gone missing in his dream. Beth sensed he was afraid—afraid to be alone. More afraid to be alone than he was of her. Waking to find that she wasn't right next to him must have sent his anxiety into overdrive.

Beth was glad that he came when he did. She didn't remember leaving the shack or taking off her weapons. She heard laughing and the next thing she knew, she was swaying at the end of the dock. It felt like she was being sucked in. Daryl's voice had called her back from the edge of whatever it was she was being pulled into.

They decided to walk around the lake and continue north, through the thick tangle of trees. Beth wanted to go back the way they came, try to follow the river to another crossing where they would likely find a road. Daryl thought it would be best to head deeper into the forest because the thick growth would mean less walkers and less people.

Dead leaves crunched under her worn cowboy boots. Branches clawed at her skin. Barely any sunlight reached the forest floor here. There was nothing green and growing beneath their feet, just a thick carpet of leaves from the tall trees. She could still hear the laughter every now and then, seeming to come from everywhere and no where at the same time.

Her thighs and calves were burning from climbing over roots and struggling through branches all day. She could tell Daryl was looking for a place to camp for the night and becoming increasingly frustrated when he couldn't find a spot big enough for them to have a fire. Hell, there wasn't even a spot big enough to lay down. The light was rapidly fading and they were already stumbling in the low light.

“Guess here's a good of place as any,” he sighed. His gear rustled the dry leaves as he leaned it against a tree.

“Daryl, are you ok? You're white as a ghost,” Beth said.

“I'm fine. Jus' got a headache 's all,” Daryl said, slumping to the ground, his back propped against a tree. He massaged his temples.

“Why didn't ya say somethin'?”

She knelt next to him, her weight crunching the dead leaves. She dug through the black backpack for the first aid kit.

“Here take these,” she said, pouring three ibuprofen tablets into her cupped hand. Beth didn't give him a chance to protest. She pressed her hand over his mouth and felt his lips part to take in the pills. She passed him the canteen and he took a long swallow.

“Don't ya think it's a little strange?” Daryl asked, narrowing his eyes.

“What?”

“We've walked all damn day and ain't seen a single walker. Hell, we ain't run into one them bastards since before the lake.”

“I thought that's why you said we should go this way. Less of a chance of running into 'em. Wasn't that what ya said?”

“Hmpf. Did I? Shoulda gone back the way we came,” he grumbled. He rubbed at the beads of sweat that were dripping off his forehead into his eyes.

“Don't ya want to eat something before ya pass out?” she asked, shaking his shoulders.

“Nah. Ain't hungry. I'm not sleepin' anyways. I'll take watch.”

“Daryl, you're dead on your feet. I think you're comin' down with somethin'.”

Beth was exhausted too, but Daryl needed the sleep more. Whether he was getting sick or this place was still messing with his head, Beth didn't know. He certainly wasn't acting like himself. She'd take watch. He grunted in agreement from where he was already curled up on the leaves.

Beth wished there was room for a fire. The moonless night was so dark that she could barely see the outline of Daryl in front of her. The darkness felt suffocating at times and it allowed her worries to run wild. She could turn on one of the flashlights, but it would be a waste of battery to leave it on all night. She would only turn it on if she heard something. But out here, it was as quiet as the lake. Hopefully, tomorrow, they'd find their way out of these woods and Daryl would feel better. Yes, tomorrow they'd find their way out. These woods couldn't go on forever. Could they?

It had gotten cold. The sweater she had pulled on earlier wasn't keeping her warm anymore. Beth felt her eyelids growing heavy. It wouldn't hurt to lay down for a few minutes and warm up. She wouldn't fall asleep. She curled in behind Daryl, wrapping an arm around his chest and nuzzling her head between the wings on his vest. Daryl's heart beat a steady drum in her ear. Her eyelids fluttered closed and she was out.

“Get back here, girl!” Daryl yelled after Beth.

“Bet ya can't catch me!” she called over her shoulder.

She was flying through a forest full of sunlight. Everything around her, the trees, the flowers, the birds flitting through the branches, was so agonizingly beautiful, that it almost hurt to look. It was a good kind of pain though and she craved more of it. The world felt wide open before her and she knew somewhere deep down that they could run for miles and not come across any other person, living or dead.

Beth smiled to herself. Daryl was still a good distance behind her and she knew he'd soon be winded.

“Ya just wait! I've got ya this time!”

“Face it, Daryl you're too slow!”

She ran until her legs ached and shook with fatigue. Maybe she was faster, but he had more stamina. Fingers tangled in her ponytail and her feet were knocked from an under her. Together, they tumbled to the leaves, Daryl pinning her beneath his hard muscular body. Their chests heaved against one another as they watched each other breathlessly.

“Caught ya,” he growled.

Their faces were only a few inches apart. Anticipation swelled in her belly until her every inch of her skin burned with it. Those steel blue eyes of his were all she could see. They were everything all at once, the sun, the sky, and earth, the past, present, and future, eternity, maybe even time itself. How long had it been just the two of them? Her thoughts stretched across the surface of her mind, like the shadows of prison bars that once grew long in the late afternoon sun on some distant day. But her thoughts failed find a time before, even though she felt one was there, somewhere.

“Guess ya did,” she teased flirtatiously.

“What did I win?”

“Me, of course, silly,” she laughed. It seemed like the most natural thing to say. After all, she had nothing else to give in this world where it was just Daryl and Beth.

He leaned in closer and Beth was swallowed up by darkness. Now she was standing at the edge of a clearing in the forest. The stars turned overhead. She tried to find the constellation of Orion, but she couldn't. Daryl was better at that kind of stuff. Fireflies danced through the tall weeds. The sheer fabric of the long white dress she wore clung to her thighs as she padded barefoot through the dewy grass. A great huge bear was waiting for her at the center of the meadow standing on its hind legs.

“'Bout time ya showed up,” he grumbled.

“Sorry,” she said, blushing. She reached for an excuse, but found nothing.

“Jus' don't let it happen again,” he said, the harshness in his voice disappearing.

He took her small pale hand his large rough paw. His other paw came around her waist to rest on the small of her back, heavy and warm. His calloused paw snagged the delicate fabric of her dress. They began to step in time to some unheard music—no it was the sound of leaves crunching, the soft swoosh of her legs cutting through the water of the lake, and that laughter again, Maggie's laughter.

“Daryl? What is this?” she asked.

“My reward, for catchin' ya.”

She nodded. That seemed right. Why did all of this feel so strange? Something sharp drug into her back.

“Owww! You're hurtin' me,” she whimpered.

Beth tried to pull away, but Daryl was stronger and only drew her closer. Claws scraped across her back. Hot drool dripped onto her cheek. Still the dance went on. The bear's brown furry paw had swallowed up her tiny hand. Its glassy black eyes watched her hungrily as they swayed back and forth. She could feel wetness on her back, where her blood was soaking through the thin fabric.

Darkness again. But this time she was awake. Daryl had rolled over in his sleep and his breath now ghosted across her cheek. He mumbled her name in his sleep and drew Beth closer so that she was pressed against his chest. For a sleepy couple of seconds, she wondered if he was having the same dream she just woke from.

It felt so unbelievably wonderful having a warm body pressed up against hers again, but she really had to pee. Carefully, she wriggled out from underneath Daryl's arm. She turned on the flashlight and rooted around the black backpack for the box of tampons. Judging the cramps in her lower abdomen, she had a feeling she might need one. Beth went about fifteen feet away from where Daryl was sleeping and behind a tree so if he woke up, he wouldn't see anything.

Beth finished and buckled her jeans back up. Something hard and warm bumped against her as turned to go back to their camp.

“Jesus Daryl!”

“I told ya, ya shouldn't go off without someone to watch your back.”

“I didn't want to wake ya. It look like you were sleeping good.”

“Well ya shoulda.”

They sat down together, backs leaning against a tree. Beth toyed with the idea for a moment and then decided to ask since it was so dark she couldn't see his face.

“You said my name, in your sleep. Were ya dreaming about me?” Beth asked finally.

Electricity crackled in the air between them. Beth felt it drawing her head to his shoulder like a magnet. She could imagine his cheeks turning red as she nuzzled her head against him. Her heart fluttered wildly in her chest, pumping anticipation through her veins.

“Mmmhmm,” he said finally. She felt his head turn away from her in the darkness.

“I was dreaming about you too,” she said quietly.

Beth found his hand and squeezed it. Daryl turned his head back and leaned his cheek against the top of her head. They spent the remainder of the night like that, only breaking up when the morning mist started to rise up around them. She got him to share some beef jerky with her for breakfast and they continued on.

Beth walked behind him, waiting for those little moments when he would turn his head and look back to make sure she was still there. Every time his eyes met hers, it set off that little bird fluttering in her stomach. She tried to push it down. It just the lake, these woods, that strange dream last night, messing with her head. It was just the desperation of wanting to feel someone close to her.

Slowly, but surely the spaces in between the trees were getting wider. The heavy fog that hung in the forest all morning began to dissipate. Daryl said that his headache was getting better. Beth somehow didn't think it was because of the pain pills she had given him last night.

Beth felt more at ease too. She could no longer hear the strange laughing. Still, thoughts of the dream from last night hung over her mind as she watched the wings on Daryl's vest bob up and down with the rhythm of his steps. Words pushed at the inside of her lips, some song she first heard on a CD in Maggie's car, before the turn. Her skin was tingling with the same electricity from the dream. The words escaped first as a hum and then soft singing.

_In the land of gods and monsters,_

_I was an angel_

_livin' in the garden of evil_

_Screwed up, scared, doing anything that I needed_

_Shining like a fiery beacon_

_You got that medicine I need_

_Fame, liquor, love, give it to me slowly_

_Put your hands on my waist, do it softly_

The words felt electric in her mouth and she could feel her heart beating in time with them. She liked the way the song made her voice feel, sexy and a bit deeper. She had never sung this particular song in front of anyone other than Maggie when they would turn up the volume and sing it in the car on the highway. If her parents had ever caught her singing this, they would have probably been pissed, but that was part of the fun. Her daddy preferred her to sing old Irish drinking songs or hymns.

Ahead of her, Daryl had stopped walking. He had turned his head and was watching her with a curious look. Her face reddened and a warm rush rolled through her stomach.

“Sorry, I didn't realize I was singin' loud enough for anyone to hear. I'll stop if ya want. I didn't mean to annoy ya,” she quickly apologized.

“Nah, it ain't that,” he grumbled, “It's jus'...Never mind. Ya can keep singin'. If ya want.”

For awhile, she did keep singing. She was feeling good, feeling like singing for the first time since Zach's death. By mid-morning they weren't tripping over branches and roots anymore which was something to feel happy about. Sometime before noon, they came across their first walker since before the lake.

It staggered up on them, crunching the leaves and growling. Beth got to it first. Her fingers were already gripping the the cold metal of one of her swords before the walker could even get close. Daryl turned and raised his crossbow. The walker flung itself at her. She side stepped it easily and drove the sword through the back of its skull. She put her boot in the middle of its back and jerked her sword out of its head. Some of its blood splattered across her face.

Daryl was watching her with that same look of admiration and pride he had given her at the country club. He took a few steps towards her closing the distance between them. He put his thumb in his mouth and sucked on it for a second before popping it back out.

“Got somethin' right there,” he said.

Daryl cupped her jaw in his hand and brushed his thumb over her cheek. She held his gaze for what seemed like an hour. He slowly pulled his hand away. The wet spot on her cheek was tingling. The words from the song she was singing earlier were screaming in her brain.

_Fuck yeah, give it to me, this heaven, what I truly want_

_It's innocence lost_

_Innocence lost_

Somewhere in the distance the sweet song of a bird rang out, causing the song in her head to come to a grinding halt. They both smiled. Daryl put his hand on the back of her neck and led her onward.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics in the chapter are from Lana Del Rey's Gods and Monsters.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

Daryl went into tracker mode sometime after noon since both of their stomachs were growling and they were getting sick of canned vegetables. Beth watched him curiously as he bent down and studied some indiscernible marks in the dirt.

“Can you teach me?” Beth asked, “Teach me to track and shoot your crossbow. I wanna learn.”

He grunted and nodded at Beth.

“C'mere,” he said.

Daryl came up behind her, like he had during their drunken lesson, but this time, he didn't roughly pull her against his body. He put the crossbow in her hands.

“It's heavier than it looks,” she said as she lifted it and struggled to hold it at eye level.

“Here,” he said. His hands came up and helped her support the crossbow's weight.

A stray strand of her hair fluttered against her cheek as he spoke. Her stomach mimicked the flutter.

“Like this?” she asked, positioning her finger on the trigger.

Daryl moved her finger off the trigger. His hands were as rough as ever, but she liked it. Why did she like it though? She couldn't stop her mind from wandering back to that day at the moonshine shack when his hands were going all over her body as he struggled to hold her. She was willing to admit to herself that she liked the way his hands felt that night and the way they felt earlier when he wiped the blood off her cheek.

“Nah, keep your finger off the trigger until you're ready to shoot. Jus' like with a gun.”

“Ok, got it. What's my target, Mr. Dixon?”

“Try and hit that “No Trespassin'” sign on that tree over there,” he said, guiding her body to face the faded orange and black sign.

Daryl's breath stirred the hair on the back of her neck. His breath came in hot puffs and it sent waves of electricity through her body. He guided her finger back to the trigger, keeping his own on top of hers.

“Now jus' line up the shot and squeeze the trigger. Don't pull. Jus' like a gun,” he instructed.

Daryl brought his other hand down against her chest, just below her breasts. She staggered backwards into him and they both wobbled.

“Sorry,” she muttered, her cheeks flaring pink.

“'s ok, just try and focus now,” he said.

Beth was almost a little surprised that he didn't snap at her. Instead, he pulled her closer so her back was pressed against his chest. She could feel his heart pounding away in his chest, beating to the same frantic rhythm as hers.

“Take a breath,” Daryl told her. His hand pressed into her chest and together they took a deep breath, “Now, squeeze.”

Beth's hands were shaking a little now. Was it the weight of the crossbow? Or was the feeling of Daryl's body pressed against hers and the way he was breathing in her ear? Or was it the way their hearts were hammering in their chests? If she could feel his heart, surely he could feel hers.

She squeezed the trigger. The arrow hit just below the sign.

“Not bad, Greene. But you're gonna have to do better than that if you ever wanna take down a walker with my crossbow.”

The sudden lack of his warm, sweaty body against hers caused goosebumps to creep up her arms. He loaded another arrow. He set the bow in her arms again and repositioned himself behind her.

“I'll get it this time,” she said confidently.

Beth took a breath and fired. This time, her arrow hit a little higher. Not dead center, but at least it hit on the sign.

“Good,” Daryl said. He patted her roughly on the shoulder and took back his bow.

“Told ya I'd hit it,” Beth grinned.

Daryl grunted and laughed, “And ya did. C'mon, let's find some lunch.”

They continued to follow the tracks Daryl had found earlier. They ran into a few more walkers. Nothing they couldn't handle though. Beth couldn't deny that she and Daryl made a pretty good team.

“Here, look,” Daryl said in a low voice. He grabbed her elbow and pointed at the ground.

“What? I don't see anything.”

It just looked like a bunch of leaves and dirt to her.

“See how the dirt's all stirred up?”

“No, just looks like dirt.”

“Look at the dirt around it. See the difference now?”

Beth squinted at it. Feather light lines crisscrossed the dirt he had first pointed at.

“How did you see that? I can barely see anything even when I'm right up close and even then I had to squint.”

“Years of practice, Greene.”

“Can ya teach me?”

“We'll see.”

“I'm a fast learner, Mr. Dixon.”

He smiled at her and looked away. To Beth's satisfaction, he was blushing like a school girl at her calling him “Mr. Dixon” in that flirtatious tone. She had left him speechless. She dared to keep watching him while he avoided her eyes. She liked the way it made her feel, powerful, sexy, maybe a bit dangerous. He laid a hand on the small of her back and the two of them followed the tracks in the dirt, Daryl stopping every so often to point out some little nuance.

Suddenly, Daryl brought his bow upright. She could almost feel the way his body tensed up as he focused. The arrow flew from the bow and struck something small, brown and furry in the leaves up ahead.

The rabbit Daryl had killed had to be cleaned first and he wasted no time in showing Beth how to cut it open.

“I dunno, Daryl. What if I mess it up and ruin the meat?”

“Ya won't. C'mon, sit down,” he said gently.

She knelt down in the leaves. Daryl's knees came up on either side of her and he leaned forward against her back. His cheek brushed against hers. He put his hunting knife in her hand and then used his own hands to guide hers.

_When did he get so brave? Not that he wasn't brave before. He's just not usually brave in this way. To get so close like this._

Beth's thoughts sent her heart racing again.

“Beth, are you listenin'?” Daryl asked, “Your hands are shakin',”

“So are yours,” she said. The tip of her nose brushed his cheek as they both turned their faces to look at each other.

The knife slipped in her fingers and bit into her soft flesh. Blood gushed forth from the tiny knick she had made on her index finger.

“Gotta be more careful, Beth,” Daryl sighed, turning over her finger in his hands.

Then like it was the most natural thing in the world to do, Daryl put her finger in his mouth. She gasped as his tongue circled her finger and traced the length of the cut. He was looking straight into her eyes and this time there wasn't a hint of fear. In fact, there was something animalistic about the way he was staring at her and the way he was sucking the blood from her cut. The lyrics from the song she was singing that morning whispered in her mind,

_Fuck yeah give it to me, this is heaven, what I truly want._

Now she was the one blushing and he was the one holding all the power. Slowly, almost regretfully, he slid her finger back out of his mouth. Beth shuddered as it passed through his chapped lips.

“Here. Don't want this gettin' infected,” he said, still holding Beth's gaze.

He dug around for the first aid kit. She winced as he poured some antiseptic on the wound. He tore open the paper wrapper of a band-aid with his teeth and gently wound it around her finger.

“Are you sure you're ok? You're pale as fuck.”

Beth nodded. “I think maybe I should just watch this time,” she breathed.

Daryl reached around her and picked up the knife. He was still sitting behind her.

“Pay attention this time, Greene,” he growled in her ear. He roughly pulled her against him so her back slammed into his chest.

The seductive way in which he said it caused the goosebumps to raise up on her arms again _._ Daryl was going on about how she had to cut it just so or the organs could be punctured and ruin it. Beth's head was spinning. She couldn't hardly catch a word he was saying. It was like her sense of touch had gone into overdrive and drained her ability to listen in order to to so.

She was so hyperaware of every movement Daryl's body made against hers. His sweaty upper arms encircling her own, his breath on her the back of her neck, his chest heavy against her upper back, and a few times, the coarseness of his lips snagging over the soft flesh of her cheek as he spoke. When he finally finished and stood up, the absence of his body against hers sent a throb of pain through her.

Daryl built a fire for them and started the rabbit roasting. Beth laid down on the tarp to try to get a little sleep, while it cooked. Mostly though, she just wanted to a moment alone to get her body to calm down. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on anything other than Daryl.

Beth found herself out in the forest again—alone. The air smelled of rotting leaves, wet from rainwater. Showers of red and gold rained down from the trees every time the wind blew. Mud squished beneath her feet as she moved through the trees. Beth knelt down to drink from the stream. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the clear, still surface as she cupped the water in her hands. She was completely naked and her milky skin was stained brown with caked on dirt and dried mud. Dead leaves hung in the wild tangle of her hair that flowed over her shoulders and down her back, unbound from its usual ponytail. Two tall, bone-white antlers grew on either side of her head.

Beth's lips parted as she reached a curious hand up and traced the length of one of them, from its tip to where it joined solidly with her skull.

_Wild woman._

The words whispered in her mind, not a thought, but not a voice either. Her ears twitched at the sound of almost inaudible crunching. Vibrations raced over her skin as the pressure in the air shifted ever-so-slightly, indicating she was not alone.

Blue-gray eyes peered at her from behind a tree. His lips curled into a hungry snarl and he licked at them. Daryl was dressed in his torn jeans and his black leather vest. Dried blood was smeared on his bare chest. He drew his bow—not his crossbow, but a simple one.

He was too slow. Beth was already running through the forest, faster than the wind. Branches stung her arms and legs, leaving little drips of red where they touched her skin. She ran and ran, but still Daryl chased her. A nameless fear thudded in her chest.

_You can only run for so long, but I can track ya forever._

Beth's legs ached. They shuddered in weariness and gave out from an under her. The piles of leaves cushioned her fall, but her feet slipped against their waxy surface as she struggled to get up.

Daryl loomed over her, his bow aimed at her chest.

“Please, Daryl,” she panted, her chest still heaving from the run. Please _what_ though? She arched her chest towards him.

“Gotta be more careful next time, Beth,” he growled.

The arrow pierced her skin and sank into her heart. Pain throbbed through her as the blood poured over her breasts and stomach. Daryl licked his lips again. He looked crazed. He looked starved.

The smell of roasting meat filled her nose and for a second she thought it was she who was being cooked. She opened her eyes, panting lightly as if she had actually been running. Daryl was watching her curiously as he turned the rabbit on its skewer.

“Food's almost ready,” he said.

Her stomach turned. She felt nauseous.

“My stomach's feelin' weird,” she told him.

“You ok?” he reached over and put the back of his hand to her forehead. “Hmpf, not runnin' a fever.”

“I'm sure it's probably nothin'. Must have been that beef jerky we ate earlier,” she said, avoiding his eyes.

“Nah, you've been pale all afternoon. Looked like you were dreamin' when you nodded off.”

Beth blushed. “I—I can't remember.”

“You said my name in your sleep.”

“Oh.”

Beth now felt mortified.

_Please stop asking about it. Please stop asking._

“It's fine if ya don't wanna tell me about it. My dreams have been weird as fuck too ever since we stayed at that damn haunted lake.”

“Daryl, you don't really believe in ghosts do ya?” Beth teased, trying to get the subject off dreams.

“I do and chupacabras too. Seen it with my own eyes. Now shut up and eat somethin' before ya pass out from low blood sugar, girl.”

Daryl tore off a piece of rabbit leg and popped it in her mouth as she opened it to object. It was hot and delicious and made her mouth water. She reached for another piece.

“Hungrier than ya thought, eh?” Daryl said, patting her back.

“Maybe your cookin' changed my mind.”

"Ain't nothin' special."

Between the two of them, they finished the rabbit in half an hour. Daryl sucked the grease off his fingers, one by one. Beth found herself doing the same with her own fingers and they both looked at each and laughed.

They packed up and moved on. Daryl continued with her tracking lessons.

“Somethin' came through here,” she said, pointing at the trampled down leaves and grass. “Maybe a walker.”

“Or a drunk.”

She followed the tracks to a small clearing.

“I was right,” she whispered, smirking.

Daryl placed his crossbow in her arms and together they raised it and aimed it. She made sure to take a breath, keep her finger off the trigger until she was ready and then to squeeze it, not pull. The arrow broke through the back of the walker's head and it slumped to the ground.

“I did it! I did it, Daryl!”

She ran forward to collect the arrow. Pain shot like a lightening bolt up her ankle and through her leg. A rusty metal bear trap revealed itself from where it was hiding amongst the fallen leaves.

Daryl pried it open as fast as he could, but the damage had been done. She didn't think it was broken, but it hurt to put weight on it. Daryl removed her boot and lifted up her pant leg. A huge purple bruise had spread across her ankle, down over the top of her foot, and up the side of her leg.

_Gotta be more careful, Beth._

_“_ I'm so stupid sometimes,” Beth said. Tears started to flow, partially from the pain, partially from embarrassment.

“Nah, you're not,” Daryl assured her, “It's not your fault some asshole left this out here. Can you walk on it?”

Beth tried. She could, but it hurt like hell and she would have to favor her other leg. Daryl watched her with a worried look.

“It hurts to put weight on it, but I can manage.”

“Put your arm around my neck,” Daryl offered.

Beth hooked her arm around his neck and he wrapped his arm around her back, resting his hand on her ribs. They struggled along for a few hours, stopping to rest every twenty minutes or so. By late afternoon they reached a graveyard on the edge of the forest. The lawn had been freshly cut and on the horizon she could see a white house with a wrap around porch.

“Might be people there,” Beth said.

“Might be more assholes like the Governor,” Daryl growled, narrowing his eyes. His arm tightened around her, pulling her closer to his side.

“Maybe Rick or Maggie and Glenn are holed up in there.”

“We should go,” he said, turning his head back towards the forest.

“We should check it out. Maybe they have something that will help my ankle.”

“Or somethin' that'll kill us.”

“Daryl, there are still good people.”

She held his gaze for a few minutes. She saw fear there and uncertainty. Beth felt the doubt Daryl must be feeling whisper through her. She knew he wanted to run back into the woods and hide, but they were never going to find their group or anyone else for that matter if they kept doing that. They couldn't survive just the two of them. They needed a group.

_But we have made it this far just the two of us._

“Ok, let's check it out,” Daryl agreed finally.

“Really?,” she asked.

“Really.”

 


	14. Chapter Fourteen

“C'mon, hop up,” Daryl said, leaning forward and motioning for Beth to get on his back. He could tell that the pain in her ankle was getting worse. They had walked too far since that rusty piece of crap had snapped shut around it. He felt bad for letting her get hurt in the first place, but it wasn't like either of them could have known that trap was there.

“Are you serious? A piggyback?” she laughed.

“Yeah, it's a serious piggyback.”

Beth smiled and jumped up. She wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders.

“You're heavier than ya look,” he grunted.

“What's that supposed to mean?!” she said with a playful smack to his chest.

“Nothin'. It's good. At least ya ain't starvin' and wasting away to nothin'.”

The weight of her felt _right_ against his back. He had grown to like the feeling of her body against his, whether it was a hand on her back or holding her to his chest as he gave her crossbow lessons. He smiled to himself. She wasn't a bad shot. If they could find her a smaller, lighter weight crossbow with a hand crank, it'd be a damn good weapon for her. Not that she needed another weapon. She had gotten comfortable with those two swords of hers and she looked pretty badass wielding them.

He could just make out the beat of her heart through his vest and shirt. It was going faster than usual, but it wasn't pounding like it was earlier during their lesson. The lesson had been exhilarating—all adrenaline and anticipation, racing hearts and dangerous flirtation. And then there was the way her hands were shaking when he was showing her how to cut the rabbit. She had said that his hands were shaking too. Were they? Once her ankle healed, he sure as hell was going to continue the lessons—if she wanted. And he had a feeling she would.

Beth wriggled against his back and he stopped and let her down. She stood staring in silence at a grave that simply said “Father”. Didn't take a genius to know what she was thinking about. Daryl plucked some yellow flowers and laid them on top of the stone.

“I miss him too,” Daryl said.

Her hand found his or his hand found hers. He wasn't sure which, but their fingers laced together and she laid her head on his shoulder. He reached up with his other hand and brushed away a tear that was making its way down her cheek. The dirt on his fingers left a blotch on her face and he couldn't help but smile.

_She looks cute as hell with dirt on her cheek. When doesn't she look cute as hell?_

This time, Daryl didn't try to push away the thoughts or deny them. They were true. No reason to deny the truth.

They stood there for awhile longer in quiet reflection. He wondered how Hershel would feel about him being out here with Beth, holding her close and giving her crossbow lessons and having those dreams about her. He doubted Hershel would be thrilled, even if the old man had treated him, Rick, and Glenn almost like they were his own sons.

They made it up to the house a few hours before sunset. They found neither walker nor living person inside. It was a funeral home and creepy as hell in Daryl's opinion. Whoever had been holing up there had been playing dress up with dead walkers. Beth said it was beautiful, but it gave Daryl an uneasy feeling.

In the basement, they found some medical supplies. Daryl lifted Beth onto the counter, removed her boot, and wrapped the injured ankle so it wouldn't move around so much.

The upstairs part of the house was more normal. There was a bedroom with a double bed, dresser, and nightstands, a bathroom, and a small office, which was locked up. Beth tried the tap on the bath, but of course it didn't work.

He helped her light the wood stove in the kitchen and they heated a can of carrots for a quick dinner. Afterwards, she went in the parlor to play around with the piano. Daryl could hear her plunking the keys from outside as he put up their alarm system around the front door. He found a water pump and a couple of buckets. He filled them and brought them inside to heat on the wood stove. Daryl finished boarding up the kitchen windows while he waited for the water to heat. He then carefully carried the steaming water up to the bathroom and filled the tub. It filled the tub up less than half way, but it would be enough. He lit a few candles in the bathroom and bedroom since it had gotten dark outside.

Back downstairs, Beth had lit some candles in the parlor and was now playing some sad, longing sounding tune on the piano. Daryl stood in the doorway of the parlor just listening to her and watching the way the candlelight played off her blonde hair.

_Swinging in the backyard_

_Pull up in your fast car whistling my name_

_Open up a beer_

_And you say get over here and play a video game._

_I'm in his favorite sun dress_

_Watching me get undressed take that body downtown_

_I say you the bestest_

_Lean in for a big kiss put his favorite perfume on_

_Go play your video game_

Goosebumps covered his arms at the sound of her voice. This song was different than that sexy, almost seductive one she was singing to herself the other day in the woods, but her voice still retained that deep, sultry quality it had that day.

_It's you, it's you, it's all for you,_

_Everything I do_

_I tell you all the time_

_Heaven is a place on Earth with you_

_Tell me all the things you want to do_

_I heard you like the bad girls honey, is that true?_

_It's better than I ever even knew_

_They say that the world was built for two_

_Only worth living if somebody is loving you_

_Baby now you do._

Daryl didn't want to interrupt her. Her voice was so beautiful and god how he missed hearing her sing. Ever since she sang in the woods, he had been wanting to hear her voice again. He listened for awhile longer before he cleared his throat and she stopped and turned around.

“Sorry, I know my singin' annoys you. I can stop.”

“Nah, it doesn't. But I've got somethin' I wanna show you.”

She stood up and Daryl hooked his arm under her knees and his other arm around her ribs and lifted her like he had that day at the lake. She giggled in surprise and threw her arms his neck. He carried her up the stairs and set her down in front of the claw foot tub.

“Brought the water in from the pump outside and heated it on the stove,” he said, “Now ya can have a hot bath, like ya wanted to earlier.”

Beth smiled wide and embraced him like she had at the prison. This time, Daryl didn't tense up and he returned the hug. He reluctantly released her and turned to leave the room.

“Hey, Daryl,” Beth started. Her face was flushed, but it was probably just from the singing, or being carried up the stairs, or the heat of the water in the room.

“Beth?”

She looked like she wanted to say something, but the words just wouldn't quite form. Her eyes were shining in the candlelight. Her lips parted, but nothing came out. Daryl waited patiently. Whatever she wanted to ask of him, he knew he would say yes. The words never came and she shook her head.

“If you need anythin', I'll be right outside the door in the bedroom,” Daryl told her.

She nodded and turned her back to get undressed. Daryl pulled the door shut behind him. It closed with a disappointed click. He kicked off his shoes and was about to flop down on the bed when he noticed the black sweatpants, hanging out of Beth's backpack. His jeans were so crusted with blood and filth, they weren't even blue anymore. Maybe tomorrow they could do some laundry. He took off the jeans and pulled on the sweatpants. They were surprisingly comfortable. Daryl almost felt bad for mocking them before, _almost_. They still looked ridiculous as hell. He took off his vest and shirt and draped them over a chair, trading them for a clean black t-shirt. Even if he was being an ass when they scavenged those cars, Beth had still thought to grab some clothes for him. He fell back onto the bed and closed his eyes. Beth's singing drifted through the door. It sounded like the same song from earlier, that one that was full of longing and quiet pain.

_Singing in the old bars_

_Swinging with the old stars_

_Living for the fame_

_Kissing in the blue dark_

_Playing pool and wild darts_

_Video games_

_He holds me in his big arms_

_Drunk and I am seeing stars_

_This is all I think of._

The words of her song were pulling him deeper into the warm lull he had fallen into and he was daydreaming of that night at the moonshine shack when he held her body against his and they were both drunk. He struggled to open his eyes, but it was just too much effort, too much work.

The bed was comfortably warm and images were flickering in his brain, dancing to the words of Beth's song. They were in another place in time, sometime before or after the turn. He wasn't sure which, but there weren't any walkers there. He was flying down a country road on his bike, going to pick her up. She'd be waiting there on the front porch of the farm house wearing a pair of denim shorts, so short that they'd just barely cover the sweet curve of her ass. He'd get off his bike and she'd jump into his arms and kiss him with cherry-red lips. They'd go to some bar and watch Merle play darts and then leave when Merle got kicked out for fighting. They'd end the night in the middle of nowhere lying in the grass, drinking moonshine, and watching the stars.

_It's you, it's you, it's all for you_

_Everything I do_

_I tell you all the time_

_Heaven is a place on Earth with you_

There was an old floral couch in one of the parlors downstairs, he should get up and go sleep there. Beth should have the bed. She was injured. It was the right thing to do, but Daryl's body wouldn't budge. He was so fucking tired and it felt like the words of Beth's song were pinning him to the bed. Besides, he kind of wanted to wait for her to come out of the bath, lay down next to him. He wanted to pull her close and listen to see if her heart was beating as fast as his.

The images from the daydreams faded away after awhile and Daryl was standing alone on the porch of the funeral home. The front door stood wide open in front of him. A cold breeze blew past him, sending a wave of dried leaves across the threshold. Inside, he couldn't see a damn thing.

“Beth!” he called into the darkness.

Nothing but silence. He called for her again and again. Anxiety was building up in his gut. Each beat of his heart sent waves of panic through his blood. A raven's call broke the silence. Black wings fluttered past his head, causing him to duck down. He yelled for Beth again. Still nothing. Around him, the walls began to pulsate with an intense, crushing emptiness.

The raven cried from its perch on the banister. Its black feathers were glowing now and he could see the bird clearly against the darkness. It cocked its head and stared him down with its milky white eyes. It cawed again and flew up the stairs. Daryl chased it up to the hallway where all the doors stood open and the same cold wind pushed dead leaves across the boards.

Daryl checked the office, the bathroom, the bedroom, but they were all empty. The raven's wings brushed past his head again.

“Well, well, long time no see, baby brother,” Merle laughed.

He had materialized in the center of the bedroom. The raven was perched on his shoulder, still regarding Daryl with a mild curiosity.

“Where's Beth?” Daryl demanded.

“No nice to see ya Merle? Or how's the afterlife been treating ya? I get it, you care more about that little blonde bimbo, than your old brother, Merle.”

The raven pecked at a loose flap of skin under Merle's eye.

“Just shut up and tell me where she is,” Daryl begged.

“She's gone, baby brother. Flew the coop. She ain't want nothin' to do with you. Probably gone off to find your buddy, Rick.”

The raven pulled the flap of skin free. Its head bobbed as it swallowed.

“Nah, you're lyin'. She wouldn't leave without tellin' me!”

“Your baby songbird's gone. You really think she gives a damn about you? Took the first chance to get as far away from you as she could.”

“Liar! What did ya do to her?”

“I told ya, brother, she's gone. Probably runnin' straight into Rick's arms right about now. Rick's more of a man than you ever were. He'll protect her, keep her from stepping in rusty ol' bear traps, keep her warm at night,” Merle threw his head back laughing. The raven tore away another chunk of flesh, this time from Merle's neck.

“Beth!” Daryl cried over and over.

“She abandoned you, just like you abandoned me for your little friend Rick and his pals.”

“No! She's not like that! Beth!”

Warm hands were shaking him awake. Hands that smelled like lavender and pine.

“Daryl! Wake up,” Beth was saying over and over.

The bedroom rematerialized around him. The candles had gone out and the room was dark, but not the same kind of darkness from his dream. Beth was in the bed next to him. Relief poured over him at the sight of her. She had put on the other black t-shirt. Her pale slender legs peeked out from the hem of it. Her hair was still a little damp from the bath.

“Daryl, it was just a nightmare,” she said gently.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Dunno. I was in the bath for maybe an hour, until the water got cold. I came out here to get dressed and you were already sleepin'.”

“I'm sorry. Was gonna let you have the bed.”

“It's big enough for both of us.”

“It ain't right. You should have it to yourself.”

“What if I want to share it?”

Daryl's face reddened at her words. A few moments passed in silence. He laid on his back staring up at the ceiling. His breathing had slowed, but his heart was still banging away in his chest. Was it from the nightmare still?

“You were callin' my name in your sleep. Were you dreaming about me?”

Daryl sucked in a breath and nodded.

“You were gone. I couldn't find ya. Merle was here.”

Beth was watching him with a mixture of sadness and worry.

“I'm not goin' anywhere,” she assured him.

Her hand found his amongst the tangle of blankets and her palm slid against his, cool and smooth against his hot and dry one. She shifted, closing the distance between them. Her hair brushed against his cheek as she lay her head on his shoulder.

“I'm right here. It was just a nightmare,” she promised.

Daryl woke up the next morning as soon as the first rays of light were squeezing through the window. Beth's head was still on his shoulder. He hadn't noticed it last night, but she had left her hair down after the bath. It spilled out on the pillow behind her in long waves. She hadn't bothered to put on pants after the bath either. Her light blue panties were visible in a few places where the long black t-shirt had ridden up.

Part of him wanted to lay there a little longer, but if they were to remain here, for a few days, a few weeks, or longer, there was work to be done. Reluctantly, Daryl rolled out of bed, careful not to disturb Beth, and dressed.

Everything looked better in the morning light—this place, Beth's ankle. Even his nightmare was evaporating like dew in the morning sun. Whatever Merle had said in it, didn't matter. It wasn't true. Beth wasn't going to leave him. It didn't matter that they had wound up stuck with each other after the prison fell. They stayed together by choice. They had made it work this far. They could keep making it work. This place would work. They could spend the winter here.

Daryl brought in some more wood for the stove and heated a few cans of pork and beans he found in the cupboards. Upstairs he heard the floorboards creek. Beth must have woken up. He hurried to the stairs. She was already at the top of them, griping the banister and clearly favoring her non-injured ankle.

“I can make it,” Beth said as he moved to come up the stairs and help her.

_Stubborn as ever._

“Can't rely on anyone for for anythin'. Remember?” she said with a laugh. Her face was scrunched up with pain and concentration.

_You can though. You can rely on me._

He should of said it out loud, but his jaw stayed clenched shut. Beth made it down the last few stairs. On a whim, he swept her off her feet and carried her into the kitchen. The sudden act, sent her into a fit of giggles. Daryl knew she could make it to the kitchen without his help, but this was much faster and hearing her laugh was worth it.

After breakfast, they spent the day working on various projects. Beth washed almost all their clothes and hung them over the porch railing to dry. He brought in more firewood and checked the boards on the windows, filling in any gaps and replacing any loose boards. Beth moved some food and water to the upstairs bedroom so they'd be able to last a few days up there if the front door was breached.

They worked mostly separately through out the day. Smiles and glances passed between them all afternoon. His body ached with anticipation every time he thought about the coming night, wondering if she'd want to share the bed with him again, wondering if he'd wake up with her tangled against him. Whatever this thing was between them, it was growing and it was getting harder to push it away and ignore it.

Tonight. He'd talk to her about it tonight. He wasn't sure exactly what he'd say or how she'd respond. He hoped that the words would just come somehow. If she felt the same, together they could figure out where to go from here. If she didn't, well, he'd probably feel like the world's biggest jackass for awhile, but Beth was a good person. Even if she didn't feel the same, she'd probably be gentle about it and they could move past this together. He didn't know why he was even nervous. He'd been disappointed enough times in the past, one more wouldn't kill him.

_Time to stop ruinn'._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics in this chapter are from Lana Del Rey's song Video Games.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

That night they sat together in the candlelit kitchen eating cereal and a jar of pig's feet from the cupboard. Well, Daryl was eating most of the pig's feet. Beth wouldn't touch them. She sat next to him at the kitchen table, scribbling something in that little black book she had since the prison, maybe since the farm. Daryl wasn't sure. He hadn't noticed her much back then. He was too busy searching for Sophia and Beth was just some sixteen year old girl running around with that dopey kid, Jimmy, trying to avoid being caught by her father. Daryl had noticed that she was a very pretty sixteen year old girl, but he didn't think too much about it. There were too many other distractions and his position in the group was too precarious to risk it by letting people think he was lusting after some jailbait farm girl, not that he had been lusting after her. Daryl wondered if she'd noticed him when they were still at the farm. What did she think of him then?

She noticed him at the prison that was for sure. They were both good with Judith, better than anyone else in the group, better than Rick, better than Carol, better than any of the people who had been parents which was kind of funny since neither Beth or him had kids before or after the turn. Hell, they were pretty much that baby's surrogate mom and dad, since Lori was dead and Rick was crazy for awhile after her death and then after that he was often too busy to take care of the child himself.

Beth had been upset when Daryl left with Merle because Rick wouldn't allow Merle to stay at the prison. Carol had told him about the conversation she had with Beth when she found out he wasn't coming back. “We're weak without him,” that's what Beth had said. He wondered if she wrote about that in her journal and if she had written anything else about him that day.

At least tonight Daryl didn't think she was writing something about him being an ass for not wanting to look for the others. He had seen what she had written when she threw down the book to go take a piss. The book had flopped open as it hit the tarp and he had glanced over it just before he took off after her to watch her back.

Daryl was glad things between them had gotten better since that night. Beth must have realized that he was only trying to ensure their survival—her survival, by making sure they were well supplied and in a safer position before they even tried to look for the group. He couldn't blame her for being angry and upset at him then. She had just watched her dad get his head cut off and she had been separated from the only family member she had left. He knew all too well what that felt like. He had been ready to go into Atlanta alone, walk through a herd, if that's what it took, to get Merle back.

The candlelight gave her a beautiful glow and the way it flickered and danced across her skin like sunlight on water, gave her the unearthly aura that she had in his dreams, something indescribable, intangible, like the words of a song or that fluttery feeling he got in his gut whenever she looked at him for too long. He wanted to reach over and press his thumb into the soft flesh of her cheek, drag it across the smooth skin there, the way he had the other day in those haunted woods. He couldn't though. His arms were lead at his sides. She stopped writing and looked up when she noticed him staring at her.

“I'm writing a thank you note, for the people that live here,” Beth said quietly.

“Ya don't have to do that. We could stay. Spend the winter here,” Daryl said.

“What if they come back?”

“We'll make it work.”

“Really?” Her smile grew, spreading across her face like the crescent moon in the darkness.

“Really. And if they don't come back, we'll fortify this place. Get into that office, find a map of the area and grid it out. Start searching for Maggie and Rick.”

He knew she'd be happy to hear that, and he meant it too. Her smile faded and twisted into a mischievous grin.

“I knew it. You do still believe there are good people,” she said.

Daryl grunted and nodded.

“So what changed your mind?”

_You._

The word whispered across his mind, held hostage by his tongue. His lips wouldn't part and allow it to slip through. All he could do was stare at her, her eyes sparkling in the orange light, growing wider by the second as if she could hear the word that was echoing in his brain.

_You. You. You._

_It's you, it's you, it's all for you._

The words of her song pounded in his brain to the tempo in his chest, a sad, aching, longing to say what he just couldn't say.

“Oh,” she said breathlessly, as if she understood.

A question hung unanswered between them. He held her gaze, letting himself feel the electricity that crackled between them, carried by the rhythmic waves of the sound of his breathing and maybe hers too. His fingers twitched on the table, itching to reach over and touch her. Instead, he fiddled with the label on the jar of pig's feet, tearing at it with short, jerky, little movements, fidgeting. Beth had set aside the black book, but her fingers were still curled around the pen, tapping it lightly on the wooden surface. She stared at him expectantly, her lips parted slightly as if she was about to say something. But _what_?

The alarm system jingled outside. Daryl's mind was buzzing with questions as he got up to check the front door. It felt like a hundred candles had lit up at once in his head and he didn't know what to look at or what to do because the presence of so much light after so much darkness was blinding, overwhelming. What would he say when got back? Yes, it was you, you changed my mind? I'm glad I escaped the prison with you? I'm glad we burned that moonshine shack together? I'm glad we found this place together?

And what would Beth say to that? A “me too” would be good enough for Daryl. Anything extra wouldn't be necessary. He just needed to know that everything they went through after the prison, that all of this—whatever this was, was ok with her, that she was ok with it being just the two of them. That she was ok with everything that their current situation was bringing out, all the looks that passed between them, all the smiles, all the touching that he had been adverse to at first, but now he didn't think he could live without. He would be fine with it if the touching never progressed past holding hands, her laying her head on his shoulder, and the contact that occurred during their crossbow lessons, but he sure as hell didn't want it to stop. With his mind still lost in his hopeful thoughts, he pulled the door open, eager to be done with this and get back to the kitchen where Beth waited for him.

The warm dreamy feeling that had his brain wrapped up in cotton and fuzz, popped like a bubble of soap and he was suddenly alert, his heart pumping gallons of adrenaline through his veins.

“Shit,” he grumbled, staggering backwards.

A dozen fucking walkers were on the porch and now pushed their way through the doorway. Beth appeared at his side and tossed him his crossbow. He backed up into the hall, loading an arrow. He shot one and it dropped to the floor. More and more were pouring in through the front door though.

“Beth get outta here!” he yelled.

There were way too many. They couldn't take on that many just the two of them, even though Beth's fighting skills had improved. It would have been a challenge even with Rick, Maggie, Glenn, Carl, and the others.

“I'm not leavin' you!” she cried.

“Ya have to. Go to the road out back. I'll meet ya there.”

He drew the pack of walkers towards the stairs. He would pull them up the stairs so Beth could get out through the front door and then he could climb out onto the porch roof and drop down. He stumbled backwards over the stairs, shooting another one and stabbing the next one with his knife.

Daryl waited until he saw her blonde ponytail disappear out the door before he scrambled the rest of the way up the stairs. He ran into the bedroom and pushed the Victorian style arm chair in front of the door. He flung open the window and kicked out the screen. It was a tight squeeze, but he made it through and onto the roof. Back in the bedroom, he could hear the walkers breaking through the door.

He looked out towards the road, but he couldn't see a damn thing. The night was moonless and clouds scattered across the stars. Beth's scream shattered the chilly night air and two red lights lit up in the distance—tail lights. Daryl slung his crossbow over his back and climbed over the edge of the porch roof. He dangled there a few seconds before dropping to the ground.

Daryl's ankles stung as he landed in the damp grass. Beth screamed again. His heart was pounding in his chest now. His eyes darted back and forth searching for her.

“Daryl! Help!” she called.

“Shut up, you little bitch,” a cold male voice snapped.

Beth appeared from around the side of the house, being dragged by an oily haired man in a police uniform. He had her arms pinned against her chest. Daryl raised his crossbow and aimed it at the prick's head.

“Let her go,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

The cop spun Beth around to face Daryl and raised a knife to her throat.

“Why would I do that? I found her. She's mine. Doesn't look like you've been taking very good care of her anyways,” he smirked, kicking Beth's injured ankle.

Beth whimpered and shifted her weight to her good leg.

Daryl growled. He couldn't get a clear shot at the asshole with him using Beth as a shield.

“My group, we've got a doctor and medical supplies. We can help her,” the cop said.

“She don't wanna go with you. Now let her go,” Daryl growled.

His mind was racing. How would Rick handle this? He couldn't think straight. His heart was pumping his veins full of adrenaline, anxiety, and anger. Time seemed to slow down again, like it had when the Governor attacked the prison. He could see Beth's chest rising and falling in quick pants, her mouth opening and closing silently, and the utter terror that made her eyes shine like ice. He could see the cop's pupils dilating and contracting with anticipation and his red tongue lap across his thin lips hungrily.

The cop had Beth pinned good. He had her arms folded across her chest, held there by his right arm. His left arm was holding a long hunting knife against the white of Beth's throat, his thick fingers wrapped around the hilt, a gold wedding band glinting on one.

“Nah, I think she does. She needs medical care. What is she to you anyway? Your sister? She don't like your daughter. She your girlfriend? Your wife?” the cop taunted.

Daryl glanced back over the man's hand holding the knife and the wedding ring and back to Beth's face.

“Yeah,” Daryl said slowly, hoping this worked, “She's my wife. And you ain't gonna be takin' her nowhere.”

The cop's eyes widened and he staggered backwards a bit, loosening his grip on Beth. He was still holding onto her, but this gave her just enough leverage to stomp down hard on the inside of his foot, causing them both to scream in pain, as Beth had used her injured leg. The knife slipped down across her chest, leaving a hair-thin line of red in its wake. Beth was able to free her arms and reach her own knife and drive it into the man's stomach, sending him sprawling back into the grass.

Beth rushed forward, struggling because of her ankle and ran behind Daryl. The cop had pulled out Beth's knife and was reaching for his gun. Daryl shot him through the neck as he pulled it from its holster.

“Gorman!” another man called from inside the house, “We gotta go, they're everywhere!”

Daryl retrieved his arrow, jerking it roughly from Gorman's throat. Blood surged from the wound and from his mouth. His dark eyes gaped at Daryl and Beth. He was still alive. Daryl wanted to kick the cop's face in, but Beth's hand on his arm stopped him.

“C'mon, Daryl. We gotta get out of here,” she said, shaking her head.

Walkers were already starting to converge on Gorman's body. They need to run, not walk and he wasn't sure if Beth could do that after having just re-agitated her injury. He swung his crossbow to the front his body and leaned over like he had yesterday in the graveyard.

“Hop up,” he told her.

He felt her warm weight slam against his back and he adjusted his hands around her thighs before taking off running as fast as he could across the cemetery. Beth clung to him with one arm. In the other, she held one of her swords out. Between the house and the woods, she took out three walkers with it from Daryl's back.

Daryl's chest was heaving by the time the reached the treeline and an icy rain had begun to fall. Beth climbed off his back and together they pushed deeper into the trees, her arm around Daryl for support. The rain was falling hard now, pelting down on them through the leaves. All around them, Daryl could hear the growls and grunts of walkers. He kept his knife out and ready and tried to keep his and Beth's steps as quiet as possible. They stumbled on in the darkness, not wanting to risk using a flashlight in case Gorman's friend was on their trail. He could feel her ribs rising and falling beneath his fingers where he gripped her through her wet tank top. He tightened his hold on her, still reeling from the fact that he had almost just lost her. But he hadn't lost her. Her body still moved with his through the darkness, pressed against his side like she was glued to him.

The rain was unrelenting and soon they were both shivering badly.

“Daryl, look,” Beth whispered, pointing at a tree up ahead.

There were boards nailed to its trunk forming a ladder. Daryl followed them up the tree to a small wooden structure. He couldn't see any light coming from inside. He fumbled around in the wet leaves until his fingers found a couple of small stones. He chucked one at the treehouse. It hit the wall with a quiet thump. He waited. Nothing. He tossed another stone and waited again. Nothing. Daryl pulled one of the flashlights out of Beth's backpack.

The tree house had a small porch that the ladder led up to. The door leading inside stood wide open. He moved the light around. Inside, it looked empty. He nodded at Beth. Her tank top was soaked and clinging to her skin. Streams of red were running down her chest, carried by the rain water. Her lips trembled as she hugged her arms close to her body.

“Daryl, I dunno,” she said, staring up the ladder.

“You can do this, Beth,” he said putting a hand on her shoulder, “It's gonna hurt like hell, but you can do this.”

Something in the way he looked at her must have given her confidence or maybe she was just too exhausted and wet to argue.

“You'll catch me if I fall, right?”

“'Course, but ya won't. Ya got this You're strong.”

She nodded and began to climb. Branches cracked and Daryl raised his crossbow. He shot a walker as it emerged from the dark trees. He could hear more of them coming. He glanced over his shoulder. Beth was over half way up. He lowered his bow and followed her up the ladder. When he reached the top, Beth was sitting in the middle of the floor, clutching her leg.

The treehouse was empty except for a small wood stove, a few bundles of firewood, a stack of hunting magazines, two cupboards built into the back wall, and a large canvas hammock that hung across the wall opposite the wood stove. In one of the cupboards he found a few cans of spaghetti rings, a small pan, some plastic bowls and silverware. In the other cupboard was a cheap first aid kit, a lantern, a scratchy old blanket, and a worn towel with holes in it.

Daryl made sure the door was securely bolted shut before he lit the lantern and sat down opposite Beth. Her clothes were completely soaked and she was shaking hard. He didn't dare light the stove though because he didn't want to give away their position incase Gorman's friend was still after them. He dug in Beth's backpack and pulled out a pair of dry black pants and a t-shirt for her and the black sweatpants and black t-shirt for himself. They had lost the green camping backpack at the funeral home and with it their cooking pans, most of their food, the tarp, the M.R.E.'s and plastic bottles. Beth's bag still had most of their clothes, their canteen, one blanket, the multitool, the first aid kit, and the pack of beef jerky.

“Here,” he said, handing her the change of clothes, “Gonna get sick if ya stay in that.”

He turned and faced the wall. As quickly as he could, he struggled out of his soaked jeans and button down shirt and pulled on the sweatpants and t-shirt. He felt embarrassment rushing through him. He was sure her eyes were tracing every one of his scars. When he turned back around, Beth was still sitting there in her wet clothes. She had managed to pull off one boot and sock, but was fighting to remove the other one due to her swollen ankle.

Daryl knelt down by her foot and put his hands on the boot.

“This is gonna hurt,” he said.

Beth nodded and squeezed her eyes shut.

_You're strong, girl. You can handle this._

He gave the boot a hard tug and Beth let out a loud whimper. He rolled down the gray sock.

“How does it look?” she asked, keeping her eyes shut.

“Let's just say ya won't be gettin' any ankle modelin' contracts in the near future.”

To say it was bad would have been an understatement. The bruise made some of Merle's bar fight injuries look like kitten scratches. The bruising had darkened and spread all the way across the top of her foot and farther up her leg. The swelling had also increased drastically since this morning.

“Oh god,” breathed when she saw it. She turned her head away.

He patted her other leg, “It'll heal. Seen Merle bounce back from worse injuries.”

Blood was still trickling from the cut on her chest, staining the light pink tank top. The cut started at the top of her right shoulder and disappeared down beneath the neckline of her top. Daryl moved the lantern closer to get a better look at it. It was fairly shallow, thank god. It would be a nightmare to try to do stitches on a cut that long, especially without anything to numb it. He pulled at the neckline of her top, trying to see where the cut ended.

Beth gently pushed him back. She tugged the tank top over her head and then reached behind her, unhooking the little pink bra she wore. Daryl looked away.

“It's ok, Daryl. I need ya to look and let me know if ya think I need stitches.”

His eyes traced the line of the cut to where it ended at the top of her left breast.

“Nah, doesn't look too deep. Jus' needs to be cleaned up and wrapped up so it don't get infected.”

He took out a small bottle of antiseptic and some cotton balls.

“Ya ready for this?” he asked, holding the soaked cotton ball just above her shoulder.

She nodded and squeezed her eyes shut again. She bit back a whimper as it touched the cut.

“Try to think of somethin' else. Somethin' nice,” Daryl told her.

Beth found his free hand with hers and pulled it onto her lap. Her fingernails dug into his palm as his hand moved along the cut. Even though he was trying to angle his hand in such a way, it still brushed up against her hardened nipple when he reached the end of the cut. Embarrassment surged through him again and he quickly pulled his hand away.

“Will it leave a scar?” Beth asked quietly. Her eyes were open now and watching him.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Like your scars?”

“Somethin' like that.”

“I saw them before. Before that day in the prison showers. At the farm, when you were passed out and I was helping my dad stitch ya up.”

Daryl's hands were shaking more now. He wasn't sure what to say next. Anytime someone mentioned his scars in the past, they had wound up with a bloody nose or being screamed at. But he didn't have the urge to yell at Beth and he wouldn't dream of hitting her. Fear rolled through him.

“It's ok, Daryl. Ya don't have to hide them from me.”

He didn't know if he could do that. He was used to hiding them, keeping them covered so he could avoid thinking about them—or worse having to talk about them. But he couldn't tell her that, not when she was sitting there completely exposed for him, acting like it was nothing, like she was comfortable with him. Silence hung between them, filled only by the soft thrum of raindrops spattering the roof.

“Ya got to stay who you are. Not who you were, remember?” Beth said finally.

_Maybe I need ya to keep reminding me sometimes._

Her hands were still curled around his palm. She squeezed it and gave him a small, sad smile as if she heard his thought. He finished wrapping the wound with the roll of tape in the first aid kit and Beth pulled on the dry t-shirt he had given her.

“Your jeans are gonna have to come off too.”

“I know.”

“What are ya waitin' for then?”

“I need ya to help me.”

“For fuck's sake, girl,” he said with a laugh.

“They're too tight. Can't get them over my ankle by myself.”

“If they're too tight then what do ya wear 'em for?”

“Because they make my butt look good.”

_Don't need a pair of pants for that._

“Don't think the walkers care much what your ass looks like.”

“I know, but other people might care.”

Beth leaned back on her elbows, undid her belt and started to roll down the waistband revealing yellow panties with a pink bow at the top. She wriggled the jeans down.

“Like me?” Daryl asked. He sucked in a breath, waiting for her reaction.

He dug his fingers into the wet denim pooled around her ankles and yanked on them harder than he meant to. The denim cracked as it slid over her thighs, over her legs, over her swollen ankle. The jeans came off in his hands, slid through his fingers and landed with a wet thud somewhere behind him.

Beth was still propped up on her elbows. Daryl's eyes traced the long lines of her legs to where they met the pink lace trimming on her panties and then up over her flat stomach, now covered by the tight t-shirt, up to her face, to her eyes that were watching him carefully.

“Like you,” she agreed finally.

Her words sent a shudder through him. He wasn't sure if she had actually said them or if he had imagined it. His heart was pounding in his chest again. His brain worked trying to find some effortlessly smart-ass, flirty response. He never was good at this. Merle would have known the right thing to say. She turned her head away and giggled.

“I know it's silly. Worrying about how I look when the world's gone to hell,” she said.

“Nah, it's not silly. It's what people do.”

“Even you?”

“No, not me. Never cared much before the world went to shit neither.”

She smiled and looked him up and down.

“You do care though. Otherwise you'd wouldn't have made such a big deal about wearing those stupid sweatpants.”

Maybe he did care, a little.

“C'mon and get dressed now before ya freeze.”

“Yes, Mr. Dixon.”

Daryl helped her to her feet and let her lean on him for balance as she pulled on the black yoga pants. He wrapped up her ankle and gave her some ibuprofen to help with the swelling. Then they sat together, leaning up against the wall under the hammock, passing the package of beef jerky back and forth as the rain pounded on the roof.

The treehouse was rather drafty. Daryl would have to see if he could patch up some of the cracks in the walls if they were going to stay here for awhile. And they were going to have to stay here until Beth's ankle was healed enough for her to climb back down the ladder. At least they were relatively safe from walkers unless those dumb bastards learned how to climb ladders. They'd still have to worry about people though and they had lost their alarm system at the funeral home.

“Thanks for what ya did back there. At the funeral home. For savin' me from that cop,” Beth said quietly, breaking his thoughts.

“You did most of the savin'.”

“If you wouldnta said what you said, I wouldnta been able to do nothin'.”

He felt his heart rate increase slightly remembering what he had said. He had only said it because he thought, no he hoped, that it would throw the cop, mess with his head.

“You did good. It took balls to stomp on his foot like that, 'specially with your ankle bein' all fucked up.”

“Are you sure ya weren't a hostage situation negotiator before the turn?”

“Nah, just noticed he had a weddin' ring. Rick woulda done the same.”

“Do you think he's out there? Rick? Do you think they made it?” Beth asked.

“I do. Maybe we can use this place as base. Once your ankle's better, we can go out looking for signs of them.”

“What changed your mind?”

He held her gaze for a long moment.

_You._

She nodded and her soft pink lips curved into a little smile.

“Glad I changed your mind,” she said in a voice just above a whisper.

She laid her head on his shoulder and started humming. Her hand found his and he folded his fingers around hers.

_Yeah. She's my wife._

His stomach gave that familiar flutter and he found himself daydreaming again like he had last night at the funeral home. She was stading across from him on hot sunny August day. His head was pounding from the massive hangover he had. Merle had taken him out the night before and got him totally wasted. Hell, he was was still a little drunk. He was holding both her hands in his. Her nails weren't broken and dirty, but freshly manicured. Merle was swaying on his feet behind him, wearing some monstrosity of a powder blue tux that looked like it came straight out of the 70's. All Daryl could see though, was Beth. Her hair shinning in the sunlight, her blue eyes glowing with happiness from behind a veil. He lifted it and leaned in to kiss her.

_Yeah. She's my wife._

His stomach fluttered again and he looked down at Beth's head on his shoulder. Nah, it was stupid to think like that. Merle would have kicked his ass for having such a pussy daydream. On top of that, she deserved better than some redneck backyard wedding. She deserved better than him. Beth looked up at him with those big blue eyes and smiled. Her hand squeezed his tightly and then she let her eyelids drift closed. The doubt that was created by his thoughts was wiped away with one swipe of her eyelashes against her cheek.

Because it was right there and Daryl had hope that she wouldn't mind, he tilted his head down and kissed the middle of her forehead. And because she shifted closer and wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed him, he did it again.

 


	16. Chapter Sixteen

Daryl's lips ghosted across Beth's forehead again.

_He's gettin' braver._

She smiled to herself and closed her eyes.

_I'm gettin' braver._

The thought wrapped around her, a blissful feeling.

_We're makin' each other braver._

She tilted her head up and kissed the side of Daryl's neck just under his jaw. She felt his pulse quicken against her lips. His arm came up and rubbed her back.

The repetitive tap of the rain on the roof was lulling her to sleep and soon she found herself nodding in and out, trying to stay awake. There was too much on her mind for her to fully fall asleep. Gorman's oily face swam before her. She felt nauseous every time she thought of his foul breath hot on her cheek. She remembered the crushing muscles of his arm pinning her so tightly she couldn't move and the glint of gold just beneath her chin where he held the knife.

_Yeah. She's my wife._

The thought repeated over and over in her head, drowning out Gorman's phantom. Her stomach fluttered and a warm rush rolled through it, creating waves of nausea. But Beth didn't mind these waves. They were the good kind, like being on a roller coaster. She supposed Daryl didn't mean anything by it really. He was just saying what he thought he needed to say to mess with Gorman's head. Still, she liked the sound of it and let it play over again in her brain.

Her eyes drifted shut again. This time she saw the funeral home. She saw Daryl sitting next to her at the kitchen table. His eyes looked almost black in the candlelight. He was fidgeting with that stupid jar of pig's feet, looking frustrated, agitated, but not at her. He kept shooting her nervous glances like he was afraid she wasn't real, afraid she was going to disappear before he could make himself say whatever he needed to say.

What would he have said if they hadn't been interrupted, if they had all the time in the world, just Beth and Daryl? The heat in her belly grew, hopeful and bright. Images of his face shot through her mind, images of him watching her with that careful, thoughtful, but dreamy at the same time, look. He had that look at the table earlier that night. What was he going to say? An ache shot through her, a longing and frustrated feeling. Beth would have sat there waiting all night, for a week, for a year, however long it took because she had feeling whatever it was, would make her heart swell with joy.

The warmth next to her shifted and she drew the blanket more tightly around her shoulders. Daryl got up, gently leaving her body slumped against the wall. She could see his legs walking back and forth. He went to the cupboard and dragged out a scratchy looking wool blanket. His feet stopped in front of the hammock and the blanket disappeared into it. She felt the wall vibrate as he hung his crossbow from a nail near the hammock.

“Hey, no fair. I don't wanna sleep on the floor,” Beth muttered, half-asleep.

“Well then ya better get up here, girl,” Daryl said with a laugh.

Beth's ankle was still throbbing, but not nearly as bad as it was earlier. The ibuprofen seemed to have kicked in. It was still a struggle to stand on it and Daryl had to practically pick her up, putting his hands under her arms and lifting her to her feet.

“I dunno how to get in. I don't wanna fall on my face,” Beth said.

“'S easy,” Daryl told her.

He turned and jumped into the hammock, swinging his legs up and over in one smooth motion.

“How am I--” she started.

Before she could finish, Daryl sat up leaned over, hooked his arm under her thighs and his other arm under her arms and pulled her in on top of him.

“Thanks. I could of done it myself,” she teased.

“You were takin' too long. I was getting cold.”

Beth rearranged the blanket that was wrapped around her so it covered the two of them. Daryl reached over and turned off the lantern that was hanging on a different nail near his crossbow.

The hammock was plenty big enough for the both of them, but the sides of it came up in a way that caused their bodies to roll to the center. Beth didn't mind. She was laying on her side, her injured leg swung over Daryl's, her head resting on his shoulder.

“You ok?” Daryl asked. His heart was beating fast under her head. Beth figured it was just from the exertion of lifting her into the hammock.

“Yeah, I'm fine. Why?”

“Nothin'. Never mind.”

Daryl had his arm wrapped around her back, elbow bent, his hand resting in her hair. His fingers traced gentle circles across her scalp, every now and then twisting a strand of hair. She reached her arm across his chest and began to lightly stroke his scalp behind his ear. His heart beat was slowing down. It beat a comforting tempo in her ear and she found herself drifting off again.

The rain was soaking her clothes as she moved through the dark forest. The thin fabric clung to her skin. She was alone as far as she could see, but her senses told her otherwise. Fear was creeping over her. Where was Daryl? Gorman's face flashed in front of her. Something on her back shifted warm, heavy, and reassuring—Daryl's crossbow. She curled her fingers around its strap and it seemed to pulsate against her palm.

Beth strained her ears, listening for something other than the sound of the rain pelting the leaves beneath her bare feet. She peered into the darkness wondering again, where was he? Worry clawed at her insides again, but the steady beat coming from the crossbow was soaking it up faster than her heart could pump it through her body.

Beth knelt down in the mud, squinting her eyes, looking for tracks, his tracks. The tracks in front of her were a tangle of several different creatures, the big paw prints of a bear, the tiny delicate hooves of a deer, a boot prints, and her own bare footprints. They all seemed to be leading the same way--deeper into the trees.

_He came this way._

She moved through the forest like a ghost, like she belonged there, like she was part of all it. Her heartbeat sped up. She licked her lips in a wordless hunger. Somewhere in the dark, a raven called her onward. She followed the prints as they wove in between the trees. She stopped to examine the bark of one. Long claw marks scraped across its bark.

_Gettin' closer._

Drips of blood stained the ground. The grass was flattened and torn up in a few places. The blood was still wet and warm, the same wet warmth that was trickling over her chest. Her cut had opened up again and blood was slowly running down, staining her shirt. She wiped some of it away with the back of her hand. The raven called again. Beth could smell the scent of blood so strongly now that she could taste it on her tongue. It hung heavy in the damp air, mixing with the scent of her own blood.

Beth followed his tracks to a break in the trees. He was there alright. A white deer lay dead in front of him. Blood stained his face around his mouth and his hands and arms were covered in it up to his elbows. He regarded her carefully with his gray-blue eyes.

Black wings beat past her ear. Instinctively, she thew her arms over her head. She stumbled forward, tripping over the hem of her skirt. Beth landed on her knees in front of the deer carcass. Daryl dropped the chunk of meat he held. It hit the dirt with a soft splat.

Daryl stood up and moved around her like a lion circling its kill. He came to sit behind her. She tilted her head back onto his shoulder. Daryl pushed the hair off her neck. She shivered deeply as he ran his tongue down the length of it, tasting her. His fingers dug into the skin above her breasts as he ripped open the front of her shirt in one quick movement. Her skin buzzed with electricity and each drop of rain sent it crackling.

_Oh god._

Daryl's hands were going all over her chest, smearing it with blood. He bit into the side of her neck so hard it drew blood. But god it felt so fucking good. His hands tightened around her waist and he laid her down next to the dead deer. He pinned her hands above her head. Her body was bursting with anticipation. He leaned over her and licked the length of her cut. When he reached the end of it, he bit down on the flesh of her breast, drawing more blood, which he greedily lapped up. Beth's body was aching with pleasure. She bucked her hips up into his, grinding them against him. Daryl pulled back and stared into her eyes. Fresh blood dripped from his bottom lip. Her blood.

 _Is this what you want?_ Daryl's voice echoed in her mind.

 _Yes. Oh god yes._ _Devour me._

Beth awoke to the sound of her own heartbeat racing in her chest. The room was still dark and rain beat against the roof. Daryl's chest was rising and falling beneath her. Her skin still tingled with the sensations from the dream and her body was still ramped up. The heavy ache in her lower abdomen that the dream had caused had carried over as well. She pushed her hips against the hard muscle in Daryl's thigh and rubbed against him. She was wound up so tightly, she didn't think it would take much to push her over the edge. Maybe if she could keep rubbing against him it would be enough. Daryl grumbled something in his sleep and rolled onto his side, facing Beth. The shifting caused his foot to bump her ankle.

“Oww, Daryl,” Beth whimpered.

“Damn, I was sleepin' so good too,” Daryl mumbled. He rubbed a hand across his eyes and blinked at Beth.

Her hips were pressed into his now and she could feel he had gotten hard in his sleep. The pounding in her chest started to build up again. She ground her hips into his, enjoying the pressure of his erection against her. Daryl groaned in her ear the same way he had during their drunken crossbow lesson. He brought his hand up just below her breasts and gently pushed her back so their hips weren't touching anymore.

His hand felt hot and heavy against her ribs. Part of her wanted to grab his hands and slide them under the thin fabric of her t-shirt, over her stomach and chest where she wasn't wearing a bra.

_Is this what you want?_

The thought whispered in her brain again. The fog from the dream was still hanging over her. She wanted Daryl to touch her. She wanted to do something about the ache that weighed heavy in her lower abdomen. But she didn't know how to make that happen. Her heart was sinking into her stomach. This wasn't the time. This wasn't the place.

“How's your ankle feelin'?” Daryl asked, rolling onto his back.

“Still hurtin'” she said.

“Probably take some more ibuprofen in a couple hours,” he mumbled.

Under the blankets, she felt him shift around and tug the hem of his shirt down farther. She wanted to tell him that it was ok, that he didn't have to feel awkward about it, tell him that they could keep rubbing against each other cause it felt good and it was dark and no one was there to see. Instead, she flopped on her her back, her shoulder squishing up against Daryl's.

“Daryl?” she started, but she didn't know how to finish.

“Hmm?”

“I was having a dream about you,” she said, feeling herself blush. At least it was dark and he wouldn't be able to see.

“A good one?” he asked. The hint of hope in his voice made her smile.

“Yeah.”

Beth found his hand where it lay on top of his stomach and took it in hers, rubbing little circles over it with her thumbs.

“Wanna talk about it?” Daryl asked.

“I was trackin' you in it.”

“Yeah? Did ya find me?”

“Yeah. I had your crossbow with me.”

“Hmpf. Must be why it's always missin' in my dreams.”

Beth couldn't help but smile at that. It was too dark for Daryl to be able to see it so instead she brought his hand up against her jaw and moved his thumb so it rested against her lips. He lightly stroked them a few times before moving back along her cheek. God it felt so good.

“I found you in a clearing. You had killed a deer—a white one and you were eatin' it. Your hands were all bloody.

Daryl slowly pulled his hand away.

“A white deer, huh?” he growled.

“Somethin' wrong?” she asked, sitting up and leaning over him.

“Nah, go on. What else happened?” he said.

His rough palm pushed a strand of hair off her cheek and tucked it behind her ear. Beth caught his hand as he lowered it. Adrenaline shot through her.

“We—you--” the words came out in a jumbled mess. They fell to the floor like crumpled bits of paper.

She slapped his hand, harder than she meant to, against her ribs where her heart was racing, hoping that the gesture would say what her mouth couldn't.

“Oh,” he said quietly, seeming to understand.

_What is this? What are we?_

The questions hung unanswered in the space between them. Pain shot through the cut on her chest and she bit her lip.

“C'mon, ya shouldn't be sittin' like that,” Daryl told her.

Beth laid back down and put her head on his chest.

“Yes, Mr. Dixon,” Beth said with a smirk.

Her grin only widened when she heard how fast his heart was beating.

“In the mornin' I'm gonna go out and look for tracks. Make sure we weren't followed.”

Beth nodded against his chest. She knew he had to, but she felt a little sick at the thought of being left alone when she could barely walk.

“Ya did good today.”

“I didn't do anything Maggie or Carol wouldn't have.”

“See you're jus' as strong as them.”

“Ya really think so?”

“Nah. I know so.”

His hand was back in her hair. Beneath her head, his heart rate had slowed back down and hers had too. The pressure in her lower abdomen was melting away. She was ok with this. Ok with him just touching her hair like that. Beth closed her eyes and let her skin soak up every stroke of his fingertips.

The rain had stopped by the time it got light out. Daryl was eager to go out and look around the area. He promised to bring back a rabbit or some squirrels so they didn't have to eat more beef jerky tonight. Beth had a hard time paying attention to what he was saying. The worry and anxiety from the earlier part of her dream had overwhelmed her. Guilt was there too. She felt bad for stepping in that stupid bear trap. If she would have been more careful, she could be going out there with him today, watching his back. She was so distracted she didn't even say goodbye to him. She realized he was gone when she heard the door slam shut behind him. She sat there awhile, staring after him, letting waves of worry wash over her.

When she could no longer handle the anxiety anymore, Beth set to taking inventory of everything they had and everything that was in the treehouse. She needed something to distract herself. She emptied their remaining backpack and all the cabinets. They still had most of their clothes, a blanket, the beef jerky, and half the box of tampons. Beth's bleeding had pretty much stopped so she would have enough for another month. They had two first aid kits now, which was great since Beth had two injuries to look after. The first aid from the treehouse contained about twenty wet napkins which would work for a waterless bath. Hopefully she could talk Daryl into using a few. She didn't want to say anything but he was really starting to stink and he had missed both of the opportunities they had to clean themselves up. She found a couple of candles and some matches, a few cans of food, and most importantly, a map.

Beth carefully unfolded its dusty, worn pages. Something metal clanked to the floorboards. Beth studied the map. The treehouse was marked in pen on it. There was another place labeled in pen as well, “The Cabin.” Beth wasn't sure of the scale of the map, but “The Cabin” didn't look too far away from “The Treehouse.” Her eyes searched the map for awhile, looking for a lake that was almost perfectly round, but she didn't find it. She laid the map aside and picked up the object that had fallen out of it. She turned the little silver key over in her hands before shoving it in her pocket.

Another object had fallen out of the map as well—a photograph. It was yellowed with time and showed a man and a women dressed in wedding clothes standing in front of a log cabin. The man was built like Daryl, but shorter and was sporting a hideous mullet. The woman was about the same height as her partner and was quite boney with long straight, mousey hair. “June 1992” was written on the back. Beth set it up on top of one of the cabinets. She packed up the black backpack so it would be ready to go if they had to leave in a hurry and arranged everything else back in the cupboards.

Beth cleaned up the wood stove as best as she could, so it would be ready to use if Daryl brought back anything. She ripped up one of the hunting magazines for tinder and put it along with some wood into the stove.

Beth figured Daryl would still be gone for awhile longer, so she decided to do what she wanted to do last night, but couldn't. The dream was still hanging over her brain like an early morning fog that refused to burn up in the daylight.

She was already wet from the images from the dream that kept popping into her brain while she cleaned and organized. Beth pulled off the black yoga pants and panties and began to rub her clit. God, it had been so long. The last time was before Zach's death. She imagined the Daryl from her dream last night, ripping her shirt open with his bloodied hands, licking the blood that dripped from the cut, pinning her in the grass beneath his hard muscled chest before forcing her thighs apart. Beth could feel her orgasm building up rapidly. She tried to prolong it, but after such a long time without masturbating and with all the build up from the dream, it rushed through her the second she start thinking about Daryl pounding into her.

Beth fell back against the wall and slumped to the floor. Her legs were shaking. A sudden wave of guilt washed over her for thinking about Daryl while touching herself. Maybe he thought about her too though when he got himself off, if that was even something he did. Beth figured it must have been a long time for him too, since they barely had any privacy since they fled from the prison. She blushed thinking about Daryl touching himself while thinking about her. She wouldn't mind if he did. Hopefully, he wouldn't mind her thinking about him either, not that she'd ever tell him.

Daryl still hadn't come back yet so Beth decided to clean herself up with a few of the wet napkins while she was waiting. She ran one over her legs and between them, then put the yoga pants back on. They were easier to get over her swollen ankle. She took off the t-shirt she had changed into last night and used another cloth to wipe some of the dirt off her arms and chest. As she reached to clean the back of her neck, the cut on her chest throbbed and she dropped the cloth.

The floorboards creaked behind her and a string of dead squirrels thumped to the floor next to her. Daryl picked up the cloth she had dropped.

“I got your back,” he grunted, kneeling down behind her.

She pulled her ponytail to the side and looked over her shoulder with a nervous anticipation.

“When did ya get back?” she asked.

“Been back for awhile,” he replied.

He ran the cloth across the back of her neck and shoulders and then down the curve of her spine, stopping just above the waist of her pants.

“Oh.”

“Was outside cleaning those,” he said, nodding at the squirrels.

She bit her lip. Hopefully, he had gotten back after she had finished taking care of herself.

“Since ya have your shirt off, turn around,” he told her.

Beth turned to face him. She kept her hands at her side. He had already seen her breasts, there was no point in covering them. She kind of wanted him to look at them anyways.

Daryl unwound the bandage and examined the cut. The blood had dried and crusted over in it and it was still pink and raised and hurt when he touched it. Daryl cleaned it again, rubbed some pain relief cream on it and wrapped it in clean bandages.

“Still hurts like hell when ya touch it or when I move wrong,” Beth told him.

“At least it's not getting infected. It'll heal as long as we can stay put here for awhile,”

“Did you find anything out there? I mean besides the squirrels,” Beth asked.

“Nah. Doesn't look like we were followed. Found a stream and filled up the canteen.”

“I found somethin' too,” she said, remembering the map.

She pulled her t-shirt back on and retrieved the map from on top of the cabinet. Daryl studied it carefully. Together they decided that Daryl would check out “The Cabin”, tomorrow. If it showed signs of being occupied by living people, he would come back and they would wait until Beth's ankle was healed to decide if they wanted to come in contact or leave the area. If it was empty, Daryl would decide if it looked like a good enough place to spend the winter or loot whatever he could from it if it was in shambles. The cabin might be less drafty and would probably be more well stocked.

Beth wished he would wait a few more days until her ankle was healed enough to get down the ladder. She didn't like the idea of him going by himself with no one to watch his back. She was more than a little wary of strangers after their run-in with Gorman at the funeral home. Daryl could handle himself. She had to keep reminding herself.

They lit the wood stove long enough to cook the squirrels and heat the room. After dinner, Daryl sat sharpening his knife in silence. Beth curled up near the stove, wrapped in the blanket, drifting in and out of sleep. Daryl eventually scooped her up and put her in the hammock. She was too tired to protest.

It was dark and the room had grown much colder when Daryl's shouting woke Beth.

“What have you done with her, ya prick?!” Daryl yelled, “Where's Beth?”

Beth could hear him fidgeting were he was balled up on the floor. She called his name a few times in a loud whisper, but he didn't wake up.

“Nah, you're lyin'! She wouldn't leave without sayin' anythin'!” he grumbled.

Beth called his name a little louder. When he still kept shouting, she swung her legs over the hammock and was flung forward out of it. Beth landed hard on her injured ankle and fell over Daryl to make things worse. Why he insisted on sleeping on the floor tonight, Beth didn't know. They had been sleeping next to each other almost every night since they left the prison.

Daryl was shouting her name now. He still hadn't woken up. Beth lay down behind him and wrapped her arm tightly around his chest. Beneath her palm, she could feel his heart racing. She ran her other hand through his hair, tracing little circles over his scalp.

“Daryl, I'm right here,” she whispered in his ear.

He relaxed against her. She could feel the tension leaving his body. She continued running her hand through his hair and started singing the same song she had sung at the funeral home in a quiet voice.

 

When she finished, she pressed her ear against his back. His heart beat had slowed to its normal pace. Satisfied, Beth kissed his back in between his shoulder blades and fell back into a dreamless sleep.

 


	17. Chapter Seventeen

Daryl didn't remember Beth curling up behind him on the floor. Hell, he didn't know how she even managed to climb out of the hammock by herself. He remembered the nightmare he had been having though.

The stars were out overhead and the graveyard stretched on forever before him. He could feel her presence hiding somewhere amongst the tombstones. The skin on his bare arms tingled and currents of electricity moved through his veins. He followed the sweet sound of her laugh to where she was crouched behind one of the stones.

“Found ya,” he grunted.

He offered her his hand and she stood up. He had never seen her so beautiful. She had wild flowers twisted throughout her hair which hung down her back and she was wearing a long white dress. He could see the soft pink of her nipples and the little dip of her bellybutton through the sheer fabric. Her eyes were the blue green of the dewy grass in the moonlight. He cupped her face in his palm, tilting her head up to kiss her. But before their lips could touch, she was running though the wet grass, the dress fluttering behind her.

“Gonna have to earn that kiss, Mr. Dixon,” she called over her shoulder.

Daryl growled and took off after her. This would be easy. He had chased her before and caught her. He would catch her this time too. He broke into a sprint and leapt over a low headstone. He was gonna get that kiss, damn it. She was slowing down. She turned her head and smiled at him over her shoulder before darting behind a tall monument. Daryl crept up behind her and threw his arms around her.

“Caught ya,” he breathed in her ear.

“Maybe I let ya catch me,” she whispered.

Beth spun around in his arms and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt. Her lips parted and her pink tongue swept across them. Her eyelids fluttered closed. And just like that, her lips were all over his. He groaned into her mouth and parted his lips for her. She tasted like vanilla, like honey, like the best fucking ice cream sundae in the world and he wanted to devour her.

He pulled her body closer to his with the hand he had around her waist. She pushed away and broke the kiss. Her eyes were full of fear. Fear of what? Of him? Of them? Of this? Daryl wasn't sure, but it sent a pang of sadness through him.

“If you want more you're gonna have to catch me again,” she whispered in his ear.

Beth ducked out from an under his arms and took off sprinting through the darkness. Trees sprang up around them and they were running through the forest again. She was so far ahead that Daryl lost sight of her.

“Beth! Where are ya?” he called after her.

His question was only met with the sound of crickets and bullfrogs. He kept running, knowing that she had to be just ahead. The rusty snap of a bear trap froze Daryl in his tracks. Beth screamed and he rushed off in the direction the scream had come from. Cold laughter whispered through the trees. That nasty cop was standing in the clearing.

“Where is she?” Daryl growled, “What have you done with her, you prick?”

“She decided she's coming with me,” Gorman said with a smirk.

“Nah, she wouldn't leave without sayin' anything!”

“Do you really think she cares about you?”

A cold slimy feeling rolled through Daryl's stomach. He thought she did. If she didn't, why did she give him all those looks, why did she run her hand through his hair when they laid down together at night? Why did she hold his hand to her chest with that longing look, the same longing that ached his lower abdomen.

“Beth! Beth! Where are ya!” he yelled into the darkness.

Gorman just laughed and shook his head.

“You're pathetic. She doesn't want to be with you. You can't even take care of her,” Gorman said, nodding towards the bear trap.

“Fuck you! I'll kill ya if ya don't tell me where she is!” Daryl roared. He charged at Gorman, but the world was dissolving around him.

The sweet sound of Beth's singing wrapped around his skin like a blanket and he settled into a dreamless sleep for the rest of the night.

The sun was just peeking through the cracks in the door when he woke up. Something warm was curled up against his back. He rolled over to face her. She looked just as beautiful as she had in his dream. The pale morning sunlight spilled across her cheeks, illuminating her long eyelashes. Her soft pink lips were parted slightly. She looked peaceful.

_Not having nightmares for once._

He brushed a stray strand of hair off her cheek, feeling guilty that he had once scoffed at the idea of such a doting act. His eyes went to her lips again and without thinking he licked his own. He ran his hand down the side of her cheek and under chin, tilting her head gently upwards. He held his breath and leaned in, but her eyes fluttered opened before he could reach her lips.

“Daryl?” she mumbled, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Sorry, was just tryin' to um, get a better look at your bandage,” he said quickly, feeling his face turn red, “Make sure it wasn't slidin' down.”

She sat up and pulled her t-shirt over her head. God, she still hadn't put her bra back on. He tried to keep from staring at her tits. He was already hard from sleeping and this was only making it worse. He fumbled with the blanket, making sure it covered his lap. She probably already knew he was hard though. She had known the other night when they were sleeping in the hammock. She had rubbed up against his cock, like she liked it, like she wanted more. Daryl's head began to spin.

He had slept on the floor partly because he was scared, scared she might do it again. Scared of what it might make him do. Now that they had a base, they could search for Rick and Maggie and the others. Maggie would fucking kill him if she found out something had happen between him and Beth. He couldn't let something happen. Beth didn't really want him. She just wanted to feel close to someone and he was the closest and only someone at the moment. Once they got back to the group, she'd forget about him and eventually they'd find some other survivors and Beth would find another Jimmy or another Zach. Someone who would be better for her. Someone younger. Someone with less scars—inside and outside.

“Well? Does it pass your inspection, Mr. Dixon?” Beth laughed.

She was still sitting there with her shirt off. Her breasts bounced a little as she laughed. Her nipples had hardened—probably from the cold. The bandage was perfectly fine. It hadn't moved an inch since last night.

“Yeah, looks good,” he said, finding himself staring at her breasts again, “Put your shirt back on. I'll help you change the bandage when I get back tonight.”

“Yes, Mr. Dixon,” she said with that mischievous grin.

She pulled the t-shirt over her head and rolled it down painstakingly slow. Daryl pretended to be staring at the floorboards, but out the corner of his eye he was watching her and trying to memorize every sweet ass curve of her tits and the way they jiggled as she moved around.

They ate some beef jerky for breakfast. There was only a few pieces left and they both reached for the last piece at the same time. Beth got to it first. She bit off a piece and chewed it thoughtfully. She stopped when she noticed him watching her.

“I'll share it with ya,” she giggled.

Beth put the last bit between her lips and moved so she was practically sitting in his lap and invited him to take it from her lips. His heart was racing again and his boner was still raging beneath the blanket. He leaned in, his nose brushing the tip of hers. Her eyelids fluttered closed. He bit down and their lips just barely touched for half a second. He pulled back and chewed, his brain fucking reeling. He was kind of glad to be going out again today. She was making him drunk.

He folded the map up and shoved it in the pocket of his vest. He slung his crossbow over his back and stepped into his boots.

Beth dug in the pocket of her pants and pulled something out.

“Here, take this. Ya might need it,” she said.

He held out his palm and she placed a small key in it and folded his fingers closed around it with her hands. The key was burning hot from being so close to her body all night.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, “Bolt the door after I leave and don't open it for no one,” he added feeling a surge of worry about leaving her by herself again especially after Gorman and his nightmares.

“I'll be fine Daryl,” she said with a smile, “If anyone breaks in here, I'll kick their ass.”

“Yeah, well, hopefully no one tries. Ya don't need anymore injuries.”

“Don't worry. I'll be fine. I'll be right here when ya get back,” she promised.

The worry in his gut eased a bit. He laid his hand in the middle of her back and walked to the door with her. She looked worried now.

“I'll be back before ya know it,” he promised.

“I know. Be safe out there.”

They stared at each other, deciding how to say goodbye physically. She answered the question by wrapping her arms around him and laying her head against his chest. He rubbed her back and kissed the top of her head. They broke apart. She was still staring at him. Then rather awkwardly, he cupped her face in his hand and kissed her cheek, just shy of the corner of her lips. They stood like that, cheek to cheek, for a few minutes.

“See ya tonight,” he said, reluctantly breaking away from her. He stepped out on to the small porch and waited until he heard Beth click the bolt into place behind him. Daryl stood there for a minute longer, imagining rushing back in there and kissing her on those perfect pink lips. He should of done that. He should of had the balls to just tilt her head a little more to the right. Merle would be laughing his ass off at Daryl right now for being such a pussy. Oh well, it was too late now. He climbed down the ladder and set off, walking northeast.

The morning was cool. The treehouse was well protected from walkers, but it was poorly insulated and they would need a hell of a lot more blankets if they were going to spend the winter there. Hopefully, this cabin was better built and decently stocked.

He had walked for about an hour when he came across the small dirt road that was marked on the map. He followed it east. About half an hour later, Daryl came upon a broken down station wagon, all covered in dust. Both the front doors were flung open. A female corpse was slumped still sitting in the front seat. From the looks of her she had been bitten and shot in the head. The grass was stained rusty-brown on the driver's side. Daryl followed it north for a bit where he found a male corpse that had its legs chewed clean. It looked as though he had also shot himself in the head. Daryl picked up the pistol in the corpse's hand and went back to the car.

The car was a gold mine of supplies—M.R.E.'s, canned goods, bottled water, firewood, soaps, shampoos, blankets, sleeping bags, boxes of clothes and shoes. He found a woman's black button down flannel shirt. He held it up thinking that it would look good on Beth, if he cut the sleeves off first. He threw it over his shoulder and continued down the road.

It took him another two hours of walking before he saw the wooden building emerging from the trees. Something about it made him shiver. It had the same magical feel that the lake did, but in a good way. He could still hear birds singing here and he guessed there was probably plenty of squirrels and maybe deer too in the area. He stayed hidden behind some brush for awhile. Watching carefully for any sign of movement in the windows.

After an hour, he crept closer and peered in one of the windows on the side of the building. He couldn't see anything through all the dust. He wiped it off with the palm of his hand. Inside he could see a bed, a small flannel couch and another wood stove. He felt relief wash over him. There wasn't any walkers or people inside and judging by the amount of dust and the fact that the windows weren't boarded up, there hadn't been anyone here in a long time.

Daryl climbed the front steps up onto the little covered porch. The front door was locked with a padlock. He tried the key Beth had given him and it fit perfectly. The air inside was incredibly stale, but he couldn't smell the familiar scent of rotting flesh. He called out a few times, just to make sure he was alone. Satisfied, he slid the heavy wooden bolt across the door behind him.

The cabin consisted of one large room, a smaller one, and a loft. The small room contained a water pump (which seemed to be in working order when Daryl tested it), a large wooden tub with steps leading up to it. A small metal box was connected to it. The metal box had a small door on the side and inside he could charred wood bits and ashes. Daryl smiled imagining Beth's face when he told her that she would be able to take a heated bath once a week. There was also a few smaller tubs and a washboard. A clothes line was strung up opposite the bathtub. Behind the clothes line was a cabinet that contained towels and a bottle of soap. Above the cabinet was a mirror that was coated with dust. Next to the bath was a small closet that contained some kind of camping toilet that looked like it hadn't been used anytime recently. Good, they wouldn't have to freeze their asses off trying to take a piss outside.

The main room had small kitchen area opposite the bathroom. Wasn't really anything fancy, just a counter, some cabinets, pans hanging from the ceiling, and a wood stove. In the cupboards, he found a bunch of different spices, jars of peaches, tomatoes, and pickles and a few assorted canned vegetables and tuna.

On the same side as the kitchen was a little fireplace with a beat up old flannel sofa in front of it and a rug so worn, Daryl couldn't tell what color it had been. The mantle was covered with framed photographs showing the same couple in the photograph Beth had found folded in the map. Daryl's heart sank into his stomach and he felt like throwing up when he looked at the last photo. Even though the corpses were badly decayed, he was sure they were the couple in the photographs. Probably got ambushed by walkers—maybe a herd—on their way to their cabin.

Opposite the couch and fireplace was a double bed covered in a blue and white quilt. He fell back onto and imagined Beth laying on the side closest to the window, smiling over at him, her face half sunk into the pillow. The mattress was lumpy, but it was a hell of lot better than the floor of the treehouse or the ground. Two wardrobes stood side by side in front of the foot of the bed. One contained men's clothes and the other women's. He thought the clothes looked a little big for Beth, but at least she'd have some long sleeved shirts and a few jackets for the coming winter.

He climbed the ladder to the loft last. A quarter of it was full of firewood, the rest was piled with various other supplies, candles, matches, a few lighters, lanterns and oil, more blankets, a small stack of lumber that would come in handy for boarding the windows, a bow with a quiver of arrows, a hunting rifle, two hunting knives, a case of AA batteries, a bunch of empty canning jars, and even a crate of moonshine and wine. There was also a little trap door that opened onto a little balcony on the roof. It could be a good escape route or defensive point. Daryl closed it tightly and climbed back down the ladder.

He grabbed a jar of peaches and went back out the front door, clicking the padlock back into place behind him. He did a thorough sweep of the yard around the cabin, looking for signs of human or walker traffic. He found a couple of tracks, but he could tell they were rather old and likely from walkers. No prints led up to the door or windows.

Daryl couldn't wait to get back and tell Beth what he found and he couldn't wait to move her and their belongings. He was going to look at her ankle when he got back and if it looked better, he was going to move her within the next couple of days. He didn't have much hope when she had showed him the map last night. He figured the place would either be occupied, overrun, burnt out, or looted. This was the best possible outcome, short of finding Rick, Maggie, Glenn, and the others holed up in the cabin.

He followed the dirt road back to the station wagon. He paused there, looking at the corpse in the car. He remembered the day at the country club when Beth had asked him to help her take down that corpse.

_It does matter._

The sun glinted off something shiny on the woman's bony finger, a wedding ring maybe. He wasn't sure why but he felt compelled to remove it. He walked back to the male corpse and found a matching ring on his finger. Daryl removed that ring as well and put them carefully in the front pocket of his vest. Maybe he'd put the rings up on the mantle next to the photos--a sort of memorial. Beth would like that, but it was more than that. It meant something. It was right. He found a shovel in the trunk and dug two graves by the side of the road and buried the couple.

It was starting to get dark when he climbed the ladder back at the treehouse.

“Beth!” he called through the door.

He peeked through one of the cracks in the door. He could see Beth slumped against the wall under the hammock with her pants off, her hand working back and forth between her legs. He looked away, embarrassed.

_Again? Jeez._

She had been in the same position when he got back from hunting yesterday. He turned away from the door and sat down. Daryl figured it was kinder to let her finish. He waited until he heard that pretty little gasp—the same one from yesterday. Then he pounded on the door again.

“Beth! Open up, it's me,” he yelled.

“Shit,” she mumbled. He heard the sound of her quickly trying to pull on her pants and unbolt the door.

“Welcome home!” she said, throwing her arms around his neck. Her fingers brushed the back of his neck and his heart rate sped up thinking about where they had just been.

“Home? Not for long. We're leaving as soon as ya can get down that ladder.”

Her smile faded and was replaced by a look of fear.

“Why? Were there people at the cabin? Walkers?”

“Nope. It was empty, no walkers, no people, just a whole lotta stuff.”

“So we're gonna spend the winter there?”

Daryl nodded.

“Do ya think it's safe enough?” she asked.

“Yeah. Don't look like anybody's been there since before the turn.”

“What about the owners?” Beth asked, glancing over her shoulder to where the photograph of the couple was propped up on top of the cabinet.

Daryl looked down and shook his head.

“They didn't make it. Found their car maybe a mile away from the cabin. From the looks of it they got cut off by a heard.”

“Oh,” Beth replied sadly, “Then are you sure it's safe from walkers? What if another heard comes through?”

“Could happen. But I didn't run into too many of them bastards on my way there or back and I only saw a few walker tracks around the cabin. We'll need to board up the windows, but otherwise it seems pretty secure.”

“Will we have enough food there?”

“Here,” he said, suddenly remembering the jar of peaches he had stuffed in the side leg pocket of his pants before he climbed the ladder. He pulled it out and tossed it to her. The way her face lit up when she saw them made every sunrise Daryl had ever seen in his life pale in comparison.

“More where that came from,” he told her, “The car was packed with M.R.E.'s, cans of food and the cabin had more. We'll have enough to last the winter as long as I do some huntin' and we ration what we have.”

Together they sat and ate the peaches.

“Oh my god, Daryl,” Beth moaned as she bit into one, “I haven't had a peach since we left the farm.”

A bit of juice squeezed past her lips and ran down her chin. He imagined what it would be like to put his hand on her jaw and run his tongue along that sweet trail, lapping it up along with the salty taste of her skin. Instead, he slowly ran his thumb up her chin to the corner of her lips and then sucked the juice off his thumb while staring into her eyes with that hungry look. He knew he was driving her crazy, but he didn't care. It felt too good. She was driving him crazy too. A little payback wouldn't hurt.

After dinner, Daryl removed the bandage around Beth's ankle. The bruising was still pretty bad, but not nearly as bad as it was. The swelling had also gone down. He watched her walk on it. She still favored her other leg, but she was putting some weight on the injured one. The sooner they could get settled in at the cabin, the better.

“Think ya can make it down the ladder tomorrow?” Daryl asked.

“I dunno. What if I fall?”

“Ya won't. But if ya do, I'll catch you.”

“I'll try.”

“You'll try and succeed. I've still got to board up the windows at the cabin. I could go do that tomorrow by myself, but I'd feel better if you were with me watchin' my back.”

He'd also feel better if he was watching her back too, making sure no more assholes like Gorman tried to kidnap her.

He rewrapped her ankle and then helped her change the bandage on her cut. It looked better than it had this morning. They packed up most of their supplies, but left a few cans of food and the hammock in case they ever needed to come back. The treehouse would be a good place to retreat to if they ever got surrounded by a herd when they were out searching the area for Rick and the group.

“It's gettin' cold again tonight,” Beth said from where she sat with the blanket wrapped around her.

“Here, put this on,” Daryl said, offering her the flannel shirt he had taken from the car.

She pulled it on over her tank top. It was a little big on her, but it would keep her warm.

“Gonna have to cut them sleeves off, come summer,” he laughed.

“Then we can match.”

She crossed the room and rolled into the hammock.

“Thought you said you didn't know how,” Daryl grumbled.

“Been practicing while you were out.”

She watched him eagerly from where she was stretched out, her leg dangling over the side. He knew he shouldn't. He should just curl up on the floor and go to sleep. This was getting out of hand—no it was out of control. He shouldn't, but he knew he would. She wanted this. He wanted this too, even though he felt horribly guilty about it. He climbed in on top of her, being careful not to put any weight on her ankle.

“We shouldn't be sleepin' in the same bed,” he growled in her ear.

“But, Daryl, this isn't a bed.”

“Ya know what I mean.”

A twinge of hurt flashed in her blue eyes before she rolled onto her side facing away from him.

“Don't,” he said. He slid his arm under her neck and his other one around her waist and drew her close. He brushed the hair off her neck and cheek and laid his head against the bare skin there.

He knew she was pissed, but someone had to be the voice of reason. They were going to find Maggie and Glenn and Rick eventually and this wouldn't be able to go on, as much as he wanted it to. He wasn't her boyfriend. He wasn't her husband, even if he had said so to fuck with Gorman's head. If the world wouldn't have went to shit, if he and Merle hadn't ended up with that group outside of Atlanta, if Otis hadn't shot Carl, they never would of even met. If he'd of gone after the Governor and killed him, if Beth had escaped with anyone other than him this whole thing between them wouldn't exist.

_But it had and it did exist._

It was frustrating him that he still didn't know how to deal with it, that he couldn't make up his mind if he wanted to go with it or run away from it for fear of being rejected by Beth or fear of what Maggie and the others would do when they found out.

“My dreams aren't as bad when you sleep next to me. I don't think you have as many nightmares either,” Beth told him.

“It's more than that though,” he sighed.

“Yeah, it's warmer too.”

She had a point. They wouldn't have to keep the wood stove going all night and he hated those nightmares where Beth went missing, like the one he had last night. Even if sleeping next to her didn't prevent them entirely, she was pretty good at waking him up and he could do the same for her. There was nothing wrong really, about what they were doing. They weren't having sex, they weren't even kissing.

“Ok ya win for now. Can't promise anything though when we find the group again.”

She didn't say anything in response to that. Her eyes were shut and her chest was softly rising and falling.

_Guess she wore herself out earlier._

At least the cabin would allow for a little more privacy. Maybe that's how they could control this fire that was raging between them. Daryl couldn't remember the last time he had wanked. Hell after things went to shit there wasn't time to think about stuff like that or the privacy to do it in. Even before he didn't do it much. He never had the same sexual appetite Merle did, something Merle teased him relentlessly about. Merle would have fucked her by now or at least tried.

 


	18. Chapter Eighteen

Beth woke up to Daryl's breath ghosting across her cheek. His strong arms were still tightly wrapped around her. She tried to keep her breathing slow and not move even when his breath caused a strand of hair to flutter against her neck. She didn't know how things would be once they got to the cabin, if he'd keep sleeping next to her or not, so she wanted to enjoy the feeling of his chest rising and falling, pressing into her spine with each breath, the weight of his arm draped over her stomach, his palm heavy against her ribs. It felt so good to have him holding her like this, so she closed her eyes and laid there a little longer, daydreaming.

Beth would have been starting college that fall. Maybe Georgia State. She didn't know. She never had much time to think about it before the turn and certainly not after. She imagined she'd be studying music and on Friday nights she'd get all dressed up, heels and a crop top, to go out with her friends and sing karaoke at some bar. Maybe he would have been there, playing pool with Merle and drinking a beer. She'd step up to the microphone and it'd be like one of those moments from a movie. All the lights would go down except a spotlight over the stage, making her red lips glisten like the skin of the apple that tempted Eve.

_All the pretty stars shine for you, my love_

_Am I the girl that you dream of?_

_All those times you said that I'm your girl_

_You make me feel like your whole world_

_I'll wait for you, babe, that's all I do, babe_

_Don't come through, babe, you never do_

_Because I'm pretty when I cry_

_I'm pretty when I cry_

He'd look up at her from where he was bent over the pool table, his lips slightly parted, and their eyes would meet. And for a moment everyone else in the bar would disappear and it would just be her and him and the sound of her voice, deep and sultry, sexy, but also full of sadness, longing, and pain. Her voice would give him goosebumps, turn his body to jelly. He'd stop playing because he wouldn't be able to concentrate anymore.

The song would end and the world would rematerialize around them and he'd watch as she climbed down off the stage and went outside to catch her breath, because her head would be spinning from the electricity in the air. He'd follow her and together they'd lean up against the old bricks of the building. He'd pull out a cigarette and offer her one and she'd refuse, or maybe not. Maggie and her parents would never know if she had just one.

Daryl stirred behind her, interrupting her fantasy. It was just that—a fantasy. It would never happen and it probably wouldn't have happened even if the world wouldn't have ended. Still, it was nice to think about.

Beth swung her legs over the side of the hammock and climbed out, careful not to put too much weight on her bad ankle. She didn't need to re-injure it before making the trip down the ladder and then from the sounds of it, another couple miles to the cabin. It was going to be a long day. Daryl was extremely eager to get them moved in to the cabin. He hadn't told Beth everything about it, but when he came back yesterday, he was so excited, so hopeful. Seeing him like that reaffirmed her own hope that things would would work out.

If only he had that same hopefulness about their growing relationship. Instead he seemed completely terrified, only allowing her to get so close before pulling back. Being afraid of Maggie was understandable. She herself was afraid of Maggie sometimes, but Maggie would have to understand, just like their dad came to be ok with Glenn.

She unwrapped the bandage around her ankle. The swelling had gone down to almost nothing and the bruise looked a little lighter than the night before. She took off the yoga pants and put her skinny jeans back on. She had to lay down and wriggle into the them because it hurt to put all her weight on her injured leg.

Daryl was up and about by the time she finished dressing. She tried to get him to clean up with some of the wet napkins but he refused saying there was something better at the cabin. A bubble in her chest swelled with excitement at that. She tried to get him to tell her what it was, but he he just shook his head and smiled. The excitement wasn't enough to drown out the worry that was weighing heavily in her stomach. She still had to get down that damn ladder without killing herself or making her ankle worse.

Daryl came up behind her and put his hand on her shoulder.

“You'll be fine. You're strong. Ya can do this,” he reassured her as if he could read her thoughts.

“How could ya tell I was worried?”

“Ya always get that look when you're thinkin' about somethin'.”

Did she?

Daryl went down the ladder first with their bag and his crossbow. He stood on the ground looking up at her. Her hands were shaking. She couldn't calm down. It wasn't that far down, but the fall would hurt.

“C'mon, Greene, Daylight's wastin'.”

“I can't.”

“Ya can. You made it up there when your ankle was ten times worse.”

“That was different.”

“C'mon. I gotcha if ya fall.”

“I don't want to fall.”

“Ya won't.”

She turned and found the first rung of the ladder with her good foot. Then the second rung with her bad one. Pain shot up her leg and she bit down on her lip. Her fingers curled tightly around the weathered old board.

“C'mon, that's it, girl. Ya got this.”

By the time she reached the bottom, her ankle was throbbing. She put their backpack on and Daryl carried her awhile until his back was hurting too much. They reached the broken down station wagon and loaded up with whatever food they could could carry in the backpack. Beth stopped to pick some wildflowers and put them on the two fresh graves. Daryl came up beside her and put his hand in the middle of her back, lightly stroking over the fabric of her shirt with his thumb.

“Thank you,” she said quietly to everyone and no one in particular.

Thank you for burying the couple. Thank you for not letting her have to see their corpses. Thank you to the couple for leaving a spare key in that treehouse. Thank you for keeping a well stocked cabin. Thank you for dying so her and Daryl could live awhile longer. The last thought made her feel nauseous. That was the way things were now. Some died so others could live a little longer.

After another hour or so, the cabin appeared out of the trees. There was something strange about it, but Beth couldn't put her finger on it. It felt like a good kind of strange though. The cabin almost looked like something from a fairytale. Wildflowers still spouted in the planters that stood on either side of the stairs. Birds wove in and out of the trees, singing and somewhere in the distance she thought she could hear the sound of running water. The cabin looked nearly untouched by the horrors of the world, but that made her wary since the farm had also been like that before the herd came through.

Inside, the air was stale and dusty. Maybe they could leave the door open while they boarded the windows to get some fresh air in. Daryl watched her as she looked around. She sat on the edge of the bed, testing the mattress. It was lumpy, but soft and big enough so they could both fit without being squished together.

“We have a bed! An actual bed,” she fell back onto quilt.

“You have a bed. I'll be fine over here,” he said stubbornly, nodding at the couch.

Beth rolled her eyes. She supposed this was part of his code, trying to be chivalrous or something. She wanted to tell him that this wasn't the 1500's and she wasn't a princess or a noble lady and he wasn't a knight and it was just totally pointless for him to insist on sleeping on the couch. It was more than a little late for that anyways. She knew it wasn't what he really wanted. He proved that last night when he couldn't resist climbing into the hammock with her. It was too late to go back now.

Daryl was standing in front of the fireplace with his back to her. He was fidgeting trying to pull something out of his vest pocket. Beth couldn't see what it was. She crossed the room and stood next to him. The mantle was covered with photographs of the same couple from the photo that had been folded into the map. They smiled back at her from a dozen or so images all at various stages in their life. A lot of the photos seemed to have been taken in the cabin—birthdays and Christmases, a few were in a different house with blue wallpaper and wood paneling, those ones looked the oldest. There was also a few of them posing with various dead animals they had hunted. The one on the very end stood out. They were smiling from the shore of a black lake and a little shack was just barely visible in the corner of the image. Daryl was staring at that photo too. He and Beth looked at each other.

“Jus' a coincidence. This place is different,” he said.

“Might not even be the same lake,” she said.

Beth took the wedding photo out of her backpack and put it up on the mantle with the others. Daryl revealed what he had been trying to pull out of his vest pocket.

“Those their weddin' rings?” Beth asked.

“Yeah.”

She nodded and he set them up on top of the mantle in front of the wedding picture. She laced her finger's through Daryl's and they stood there awhile longer before Daryl spoke again.

“C'mon. You ain't even seen the best part yet. Check in there,” he nodded towards a door that led to a small room behind the bed.

“Daryl! There's a bath!” she yelled, trying the water pump, “And the water works!” Water poured into the tub, it was a little rusty, but if they pumped it awhile it would probably run clean.

“You'll be able to have hot water too,” he added, pointing at a small metal box that was connected to the tub.

“This place is amazing,” she said, “But why do I feel so guilty?” Her gaze had strayed back to the fireplace.

“Hey,” Daryl started, “It's not your fault they're dead. I'm sure they were good people who would've wanted this place to go to use.”

Daryl climbed to the loft and threw down some lumber. He found a tool box in the loft too. Together they boarded up all the windows. There was only about five or six in all and none of them were very big. Beth held up the boards while Daryl nailed them down. Every so often, she would dart from an under his arms to kill a walker that had wandered by drawn by the pounding of the hammer. By the time they finished, they were both covered in sweat, dirt and dried blood. Daryl filled the bath tub and got the small wood stove that was connected to it going. He said it would probably take a few hours to heat.

Beth sat on the counter eating one of the cans of spaghetti rings while Daryl finished adding another piece of wood to bolt the door with. He slid the board into place and shook it as hard as he could. He wiped the sweat off his forehead and then threw his shoulder against the door a few times. When it didn't budge, he patted the door and stood back and admired his work with a satisfied grunt.

He pulled himself up onto the counter next to her. She passed him the can.

“Almost never got to eat these as a kid. My mom was against over-processed stuff,” Beth told him.

“My dad was against food that couldn't be hunted in the woods for free.”

“Guess this is kind of a treat then.”

“Guess so.”

He passed the can back to her. She had another bite and slowly licked the back of the spoon clean. Her cheeks flushed and her stomach gave that flutter that she was growing accustomed to when she noticed him staring.

“You can finish 'em,” she said giving the can back to him.

“Water should be warm enough by now.”

He finished the last few bites and threw the can down on the counter.

“Ya know, you need a bath too.”

“Guess I do. Why don't you let me know when you're done? I'll go after you.”

Beth opened her mouth to argue, but closed it. She climbed down from the counter and looked through the wardrobe for something clean to put on. All the clothes were a least a size too big and not exactly fashionable. Beth decided on a pink short-sleeved nightgown.

The creaky little door to the bathroom didn't quite shut all the way. Daryl was still sitting on the counter outside the door. He had a map spread open on his lap. She undressed and got into the bath. The water wasn't as nearly as hot as the baths she used to take back at the farm, but it was a hell of a lot better than washing up in a cold stream. She used some lavender scented soap she found in one of the cupboards and scrubbed her skin until all the dirt and blood was gone. The cut on her chest stung as the soap ran down it, but it was definitely healing. It was hard to see her ankle in the dim candlelight. The bruise looked darker.

_It'll heal one day. If we can ever stop runnin'._

She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her chin on top of them. Daryl was watching her through the crack in the door from his perch on the counter. He looked away when she met his eyes. Longing hung in the air like the charge before a thunderstorm. Every inch of her body ached with it. She wanted to get out of the tub, walk the short distance across the room and wrap her arms around his chest and bury her face in his shirt, feel his heart beat speed up, hear him whisper her name. Do what he couldn't do yesterday morning and press her lips to his, but as strong as she was, she wasn't that strong. Instead, Beth sunk deeper into the water and finished washing her hair.

She got out before the water could cool down, dried off, and pulled on the nightgown. The hem of it hit a few inches inches above her knee. The top part was baggy and the sleeves hung down almost to her elbows. The fabric swallowed up her small breasts, but the points of her nipples still showed. Her hair was a knotted mess even after using shampoo and conditioner in it. She found an old brush in the cupboard with the soaps and brought it with her out into the main room.

Daryl had gone back to studying the map and pretend not to notice her as she went to sit on the couch. A few minutes later, he disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. Unlike her, he slammed the door a couple of times until it shut properly.

He was still in there when the last knot came out of Beth's hair, so she crawled into the bed. She laid awake for awhile waiting for him to come out, but he was taking his sweet time in there which was perfectly reasonable since he was filthy. He didn't end up bathing when they were at the lake (and she didn't blame him), he never got a chance to take a bath at the funeral home and he had refused the wet napkins. Probably because he still didn't feel comfortable taking off his shirt in front of her. Those scars of his must run so deep. She squeezed her eyes shut and hugged the pillow.

The sterile white ceiling of a hospital flickered in and out of her vision. She was being pushed down a corridor. On either side of her, people in scrubs were shouting back and forth to each other, but it was hard to make out what they were saying. There was a terrible pain in both her wrists and across the top of chest into her neck. Her brain was rapidly searching through hundreds of images and thoughts, trying to understand, trying to remember, what had happened to her body. Red flashed before her eyes, deep red, blood of the virgin, she could see it flowing, thick like the cherry syrup, pooling on the white tiles, on the white tub as she sank deeper into that lull created by the warm steam from the bath. Her heartbeat was growing louder in her ears, drowning out the useless chatter that raced overhead.

When she opened her eyes again, all the noise and movement had stopped. She was in a hospital bed. A curtain had been pulled shut between her and the door. Behind it, shadows moved around another bed. Machines clicked and beeped and made awful rackets. She buried her head in the pillow, but she couldn't drown out the noise. She tried to sit up. It felt like claws were tearing her neck apart from the inside out, but the pain she felt in her heart was worse, heavier, deeper, unending. She couldn't hear much of what they were saying behind the curtain. All she could make out was “overdose” and “possible suicide attempt” and finally, “stable.”

She must have passed out again. Maggie's screaming jolted her awake.

“What the hell were you thinkin'?” Maggie demanded. Her face was red and stained with tears. “What would mom say to know she raised such a coward?”

“She's dead,” Beth said flatly.

_Oh._

She remembered now why she did it. Because the pain of that loss was immeasurable, because the hopelessness it caused was so unbearable. She rolled over and listened to Maggie chew her out for another half an hour or so before she left to get a cup a coffee.

“Man, I thought that bitch was never gonna shut up.”

The man in the bed next to her was awake now. Beth turned over to face the curtain.

“That bitch is my sister,” she said coldly.

“Don't make her any less of a bitch.”

He had a point. He had swung his feet over the side of his bed. He climbed down and padded around cold tiles barefoot. She watched his pajama covered legs walk back and forth as the sound of denim and leather rustled.

“Don't feel bad. I got an older brother who's a complete asshole,” he said, pushing the curtain aside.

He was dressed in a robe and blue hospital pajamas. Shaggy brown hair hung in his eyes, which had heavy bags under them. She could tell his skin was sun-kissed, but at the moment most of the color had drained from it and it had a sallow almost yellow tint to it. A cigarette dangled from his lips and he had the pack of them clutched in his fist. He looked so familiar, but she couldn't place him. He belonged to another life, she decided. Waves of deja vu washed over her every time she looked at him.

“Wanna go for a walk? I need a smoke.”

“Yeah, I'd like that.”

She threw her legs over the side of bed. She was only wearing a nightgown—blue like his pajamas, blue like his eyes. Wait, how did she know his eyes were blue? Her legs were an ashen white.

_A hideous color._

The color made the red paint on her toenails look garish. Her legs trembled as she put her weight on them. How long had she been in this bed? How long had she been asleep? Her knees buckled and she thought she was going to hit the floor. Strong arms caught her. He smelled like smoke and leather and grass. He had hooked his hands under her arms. With his help, she climbed to her feet. She was still wobbling like a baby deer trying to take its first steps.

Then he was pulling her down a hallway full of people—doctors in the cold white coats, nurses gossiping by the reception desk. His hand swallowed up her small pale one. Music crackled on the loudspeakers overhead, something sad sounding, something beautiful.

“Where are we goin'?” she asked.

“To the roof,” he said, looking back at her over his shoulder.

She saw it, that glint of recognition in his eyes when he looked at her. They did know each other. But how?

“Hey, what's your name?” he asked suddenly.

“Beth. I'm Beth.”

“Daryl.”

_I know you._

An overlay of white wings on a leather vest flickered on and off his back. She could see him moving through the trees, looking over his shoulder to make sure she was still behind him, a crossbow in his arms.

He led her up the staircase and out onto the roof. Together they sat down near the edge. He flipped open a lighter and lit the cigarette that was still in his mouth.

“Not gonna jump are ya?” he asked, watching her as she looked over the edge.

“No. Why?”

He nodded at the bandages on her wrists.

“Want one?” he said, offering the pack to her.

“Nah, I couldn't. Maggie would be pissed. 'Sides I never smoked before.”

“'S easy. And ya look like you could use one.”

He took a long drag on the cigarette and passed it to her. He pulled out another one and lit it. She put it in her mouth, nervously looking around, making sure Maggie wasn't running up the stairs onto the roof. She sucked in slowly, mimicking the way he did it. The smoke still burned her throat and she coughed. They both laughed. It felt good. A calm was rolling over her with each puff she took.

Beth caught a glimpse of the bandages when she brought the cigarette up to her mouth again. A hint of pink was just visible through the heavy white cloth. She rubbed her hand across it.

“I fucked up pretty bad,” she sighed.

“Why'd ya do it?”

“Ya don't want to know how I did it?”

He shrugged, “It don't matter. You ain't dead.”

“My mom and brother were killed,” she told him, “I didn't know if I wanted to live anymore.”

“Do ya know now?”

“I think so.”

“And?”

“I want to live.”

“What changed your mind?”

_You._

The thought didn't surprise her and that was strange. She barely knew him. How could he have changed her mind so quickly? Pain throbbed through her left wrist. The pink spot on the bandage was darkening. Daryl took her hand in his and turned it over.

“Ya should have tried to overdose. Less messy.”

“Is that what you did?”

He was silent for minute. His eyes studied the cityscape in front of them. He took a long drag on his cigarette and then put it out.

“Yeah.” He pulled up his sleeve, revealing a purple and green bruise on his arm. “Heroin. That's the way to go. Ya feel real good, until you ain't feel nothin' anymore.”

“But you're still alive. It didn't work.”

“Hmpf. Guess I am.”

“Now what?”

“Dunno. I'm gettin' out in a few days.”

“Oh,” she said quietly. The sadness was welling up in her again.

“Sendin' me to rehab.”

“Are ya addicted?”

“Nah. It's just some administrative bullshit.”

He held out a hand to help her up and they walked back down the stairs. He stopped just before the doorway leading into the hall.

“Hey,” he started.

Her stomach was fluttering from the way he was looking at her and from the weight of his palm against hers. She felt hopeful for the first time in a long time.

“When I get out, can I come see ya sometime?” he asked.

“I'd like that,” she answered.

Beth was sitting on the edge of his bed a few days later watching him pack up. He was wearing torn old jeans with holes in both knees and a button down shirt with the sleeves ripped off. She wrote her number and the address of the farm on a piece of stationary she found in the nightstand and he had done the same for her. She folded the paper with his number on it and clutched it tightly in her fist. All of her cuts seemed to be on fire with a throbbing pain that radiated out from the center of her chest.

“Hey, don't cry. I'll see ya sooner than ya think,” Daryl promised her, “I'll take ya out and buy ya a beer.”

She smiled at that.

“Ya ready yet, Darylina?” an older man shouted from the doorway. He was taller than Daryl and leaner with short gray and white hair. He had a cocky smile and eyes like cold steel. She felt the same recognition she felt with Daryl, but she couldn't place this man either.

“Yeah, just give me a second, ok?” Daryl said impatiently.

“Well, well, who's this fine piece of ass?” the older man asked, glaring hungrily at Beth.

Daryl stepped between them and told the man to fuck off. He left the room so it was just her and Daryl again.

“Is that your asshole brother?” she asked.

“Yep, that's Merle. Don't listen to him.”

“When do you get out of rehab?”

“Couple months maybe. Don't try to off yourself again before I get out.”

“I won't.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

He was standing so close now that she could smell the tobacco on his breath. She closed the distance between them. His lips were dry and chapped against hers. He tasted like smoke when he parted his lips to let her tongue dart inside. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears again. His fingers dug into her waist, pulling her hips against his. He groaned into her open mouth. Her hands fisted in the front of his shirt.

_You're everything good in this shitty world. The only good thing._

The words wrapped around her. She wasn't sure if he had said them or she had thought them. It didn't matter either way. It was true.

She went to deepen the kiss, but he was gone. Cold air moved over her wet lips, sending a shiver through her. The smokey smell of him lingered. She was standing barefoot in the middle of the hospital hallway. The lights were out and plaster and broken glass littered the tiles. She was alone. Panic swept over her. She could hear the growls and moans of walkers from behind every closed door, banging, trying to get to her.

“Daryl!” she called.

No answer. She ran through the dark halls screaming for him.

“Beth! Wake up, girl! It's just a dream,” Daryl shaking her shoulders.

She gasped and sat up. Her mouth was dry and her throat hurt as if she and been screaming.

“I was at a hospital. You were there, but I couldn't find ya. Walkers everywhere,” the words fell out in a panicked mess. It was hard to talk. Her breath was coming in heavy pants. Daryl passed her the canteen and she gulped down some water. She laid back down, staring up into the dark rafters.

Daryl laid down in the bed next to her. He had changed into the black sweatpants he claimed he hated so much. She lifted her head so he could slide an arm under her neck.

The old scar on her wrist was burning. She ran her fingers across it.

“What were ya doin' in a hospital?” Daryl asked.

She swiped her fingers over the scar over and over trying to soothe the pain that was throbbing from it.

“I—I cut myself. Tried to commit suicide.”

Beth told him what happened in the rest of the dream, only leaving out the part where they kissed towards the end. She wasn't sure exactly how he felt about her and she didn't want to scare him away. When she finished, Daryl lay there in silence staring up at the ceiling. She listened to the raspy sounds of his breath, waiting for him to say something—anything.

“Never told anyone this,” Daryl started, sucking in a breath. He sounded extremely hesitant and nervous, “Well, I mean, Merle knew. When I was twenty-two or three, Merle had this dealer and he had some good shit, real good shit. Make you not give a fuck about anythin' no matter how shitty things got.”

“Hard to imagine things bein' shittier before the turn than they are now.”

“Nah, this is nothin' compared to then. This an improvement actually.”

“Why's that?”

Daryl had gone silent again. She felt his fingers curl deeper into the fabric of her nightgown where his hand rested just above her hip. Beth waited again. She figured it was best to let him decide on his own if he wanted to continue the story or not and when.

“My dad had just died. Gunshot wound to the head. Suicide. Left me and Merle with a shit ton of debt. We didn't really have a way to pay it and we could barely pay our own rent. Merle was blowing most of the money we had on heroin and coke and weed and whatever else he could get his hands on. I started doin' it with him—heroin.”

“What's it like? Like moonshine?”

“Nah, well maybe in a way, but different and a hundred times more intense. Makes you feel amazin', euphoric, relaxed. Makes everythin' feel fine and makes everything so fucking beautiful. No hangover neither like with alcohol.”

“Better than sex?”

“Yeah. It was easy to get at the time too cause of Merle's friend. I was doin' it more and more often. I overdosed a few times before, but Merle was usually around and he would just kick me and yell until I came out of it. Didn't really care though. Figured if I died, I died, no big loss.”

She squeezed his hand. The same sadness from the dream was sinking in.

“This time was different though. I was alone in the house we were rentin'. Merle had gone out drinkin'. We had boxes of my dad's junk layin' around everywhere and I was gettin' pissed lookin' at it all. I said to hell with it and did two or three bags. And holy shit, it was good. I tried to stay awake, but I got so sleepy. Next thing I knew people were shouting at me asking what the fuck I took and where I got it. I was in the emergency room. Merle came back and found me lyin' on my bed. He said my skin and lips were blue and he yelled and kicked me, but I wouldn't wake up.”

“I'm glad you didn't die.”

“Me too. Well, I wasn't at the time, but I am now. I went to detox after that. Didn't touch the stuff again after that. Still did other drugs from time to time but never that.”

Beth stared at the ceiling, trying to digest everything Daryl had just told her. Had their conversation really just happened? Was she still dreaming? It unsettled her that mind had created that dream, a dream which had some truth to it. Daryl had really been in the hospital once for a heroin overdose. She was starting to get used to the weird dreams she'd been having ever since they left the prison. She had weird dreams before too she supposed, but those had been different. Those were the kind of dreams caused from living in a world inhabited by monsters who wanted to rip you apart. What was this dream caused by and the other ones? Had it been that mythology book that sparked them? That lake? Those woods Daryl had called haunted? What about this place? Was it haunted too?

Was it just a coincidence that she had dreamed about something that had really happened? Well sort of happened anyways. She hadn't been in the hospital after she had cut herself and definitely not when he was in the hospital.

“You're thinkin' about somethin'. I can tell,” he said. There was a hint of nervousness in his voice. Probably worried she was judging him for using drugs in the past.

“Jus' thinkin' it was a weird dream.”

He grunted and nodded his head slightly.

“It was kinda nice though.”

“What? Me callin' Maggie a bitch for yellin' at ya?”

She couldn't help but giggle at that.

“Yeah that and runnin' through the hallway with you. Smokin' on the roof.”

“You ever smoke before?”

“No. My dad woulda killed me. Maggie smoked all the time when she was my age. Started when she was like thirteen or fourteen. I remember my dad chasing her around all the time trying to get her to quit.”

“I miss it. Smokin'. Haven't had a cigarette since the prison.”

“Maybe we can go on a run and find some.”

“Nah, ain't worth dyin' for.”

“We should do it. When my ankle's a little better.”

“We'll see.”

“I'll watch your back.”

“You gonna try one?”

“Hell yeah.”

“Hmpf. I'm startin' to think I'm a bad influence on ya. First drink and now ya want me to get ya your first smoke too?”

Beth bit her lip and looked up at him.

“Hmm, must be. I was a good girl until I met you, Mr. Dixon.”

“No you weren't. Sneakin' around with Jimmy and Zach. I remember that.”

“Not like I ever did anything with either of them.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Like sex.”

“I suppose there wasn't much privacy at the prison or the farm.”

“There wasn't. Carl told me once that Rick and Lori had sex right next to him in their tent when we were all on the run that winter after the farm.”

“Poor kid,” Daryl said with snort of laughter.

She laughed too. It felt good to laugh with him. Felt good like it did in the dream. Felt good to break the tension that still hung in the air from Daryl's story.

“Do you ever wonder sometimes what it would've been like if we met before the end of the world? I mean not just you and me. But anyone in the group, you and Rick, you and Glenn, you and Carol.”

He went quiet again. He wasn't staring at the ceiling anymore. He had rolled onto his side, facing her, with his arm still under her neck.

“Yeah. I have.”

“Me too.”

“What do you think about?”

“I know it's silly, but I think about starting college, gettin' all dressed up, going out singin' karaoke in a bar with my friends,” she paused. Daryl was watching her intently, she looked down and picked at a thread that was sticking up on the hem of her nightgown, “Think about you and Merle bein' there. You watchin' me sing on a stage. Then we go out for some air and you offer me a cigarette.”

“Damn girl, you really want that smoke, huh?”

“Nah, it's more than that. What do you think about?”

She looked up at him. This time he was looking down, picking at a thread on the quilt.

“You. On the back of my bike.”

A warm rush sprung up in her belly. Her heart sped up and she felt like she was on a roller coaster again. She took a breath and tried to pretend like her stomach wasn't doing backflips.

“Yeah? And where are ya takin' me?”

“No where special really, maybe for a beer at some bar or maybe jus' out to the middle of nowhere to drink moonshine under the stars.”

“I'd like that. Sounds romantic,” the words came out before she could filter them and she felt her cheeks grow hot against his arm.

“Maybe you'd sing for me out there.”

Beth moved closer, sliding her head down his arm until her nose just brushed against the tip his. She took a deep breath. Her mouth didn't feel dry anymore. She could feel the words welling up in her chest, moving up her throat and over her lips,

_It's you, it's you, it's all for you,_

_Everything I do_

_I tell you all the time_

_Heaven is a place on Earth with you_

_Tell me all the things you want to do_

_I heard that you like the bad girls, honey is that true?_

_It's better than I ever even knew_

_They say that the world was built for two_

_Only worth living if somebody is loving you_

_Baby now you do._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics at the beginning of the chapter are from Lana Del Rey's Pretty When You Cry and the lyrics at the end are from Video Games also by Lana Del Rey.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

Daryl had only laid down next to her to try to comfort her after she woke up from her dream, yelling for him, but now there was no way he was getting up again. He knew he should get up and sleep on the couch. It was the right thing to do. It's what Rick or Glenn or Tyreese or any of the other guys in the group would have done if they were out here alone with Beth. Shouldn't keep doing this. Should have never started this, if he ever really had a choice to start it. Out there, when they were huddled together against the darkness, that was different. That was to stay safe, to stay warm, to keep her from being afraid and maybe to keep him from being afraid too.

He felt too good to get up and walk over to the couch. Besides, her head was still laying on his arm, so really he couldn't get up if he wanted to. Her fingers were curled around his other hand.

Their dreams had certainly gotten weird as fuck since they left the prison. Not just his, but hers too. He was kind of glad she was having them too. It made him feel less awkward about them. It was almost a little creepy how she had that dream about him having a heroin overdose. It wasn't a part of his life he wanted to think about and it sure as hell wasn't one he wanted to talk about. But he had talked about it with her. One more thing they shared, one more thing to add to the list that started before they had even left the prison.

It wasn't so bad to share things with her. For whatever reason, she didn't seem to judge him or look down on him because of the things he told her about his past. She stayed pretty quiet when he was telling her about his overdose. She didn't tell him he was stupid for using drugs or not caring if he died. She had seemed sad though, but not sad in a disappointed way, but sad because he almost died. Maybe even sad at the thought they might never have met.

Next to him, Beth was still singing, that same song from a few nights ago, the one he liked. His body felt so relaxed. Warm puffs of air from Beth's nose tickled his arm. She looked happy and content. That was all that really mattered. Daryl wondered if she was daydreaming again about meeting him before the turn. That was another thing he was glad they shared. He didn't feel so silly about it, knowing that she did it too and seeing the way she blushed and said, “I'd like that,” when he told her he thought about her on the back of his bike. He'd like it too—a lot, her arms wrapped tight around his waist, head against his back, her thighs pushing into his sides. He allowed himself to close his eyes and not long after he fell into a dreamless sleep.

A week passed. Beth's ankle had almost completely healed. It was no longer bruised or swollen. She could put weight on it again, even though she still hesitated every now and then. Daryl guessed it was because she was afraid of re-injuring it.

Daryl had been going on short walks with her everyday over the past week, watching her carefully. He could tell she hated being cooped up inside the cabin all day and she had wanted to continue her tracking lessons. Daryl figured taking her on an hour long walk everyday couldn't hurt and he could always carry her back if she was in too much pain. So far she was managing fine on her own with a little support here and there from him. Everyday she was getting stronger, not just her ankle, but her tracking skills and her aim with the crossbow.

He still kept his hand on the middle of her back for support not because she needed it, but because he liked the way the fabric of her tank top felt under his fingers and the way the curve of her spine felt pressed against his palm.

“Ya don't have to keep your hand there, ya know?” Beth said, giving him that stubborn smirk.

“I know,” he told her, but he didn't remove his hand.

“Then why ya keepin' it there?”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, quickly pulling his hand away.

“I didn't say ya had to stop.” Beth had caught his hand in hers before he could pull it away completely.

She was always doing this. Teasing him. He still wanted to kiss her, but he had stopped trying after the few fumbled attempts he had made before they came to the cabin. He wasn't sure how to go about it, when to do it, or if she even wanted him to. So for the time being, he decided to step back and let her take the lead.

“Somethin' came through here,” Beth said, bending over to get a better look, “Maybe a rabbit.”

He couldn't help staring at her ass when she bent over. She was right, those jeans did make her ass look good, really good. He wondered what she'd do if he went to pat her back and accidentally missed and hit her ass instead. Would she notice? Would she like it? Beth stood up and continued forward, following the tracks. She held his crossbow out in front of her. She looked damn good with it, like it was right, like she was made for it. The way her arms cradled it, the way it pressed into her skin like it was trying to become part of her body.

He felt her body tense up and he immediately stopped moving. The leaves rustled. Her arrow flew through the air and struck something which gave a quiet little squeal. Beth slung the crossbow over her shoulder and moved forward.

“I did it! I actually did it this time, Daryl!” she yelled, picking up the little rabbit out of the weeds.

“Ya said you were gonna get one and ya did,” he said proudly.

They had been looking for tracks every day this week. Daryl had shot two and Beth was determined to get one too. She had missed the last three she had shot at. The last time her arrow had just grazed the rabbit's hind leg before it took off running. This time she got a kill shot and she was absolutely ecstatic about it.

“I can't believe I finally got one!” she laughed again, waving the rabbit around by its hind legs.

_I can. Stubborn as hell. Wouldn't give up until she shot one._

Beth leapt into his arms, her thighs squeezing his sides just above his hip bones. The dead rabbit flopped against the back of his vest. His hands came up under her thighs, under her ass. Her cheek brushed across the stubble on his jaw.

“Daryl, do you remember what you said? That if I shot a rabbit you'd take me on a run?”

Daryl grunted. He didn't think she'd shoot one so soon. Beth had been bugging him every day since they got to the cabin to take her on a run so they could look for some cigarettes for him.

“I suppose if ya can jump up like that, your ankle must be healed enough.”

The smile spread even wider across her face and then her lips were all over his cheek, warm and wet, hungry. Daryl could feel the heat of her through her jeans, through his clothes. He staggered backwards into a tree. She wriggled in his arms, readjusting herself.

“Let's go tomorrow!” she said with that wild look in her eyes.

“I dunno.”

“C'mon, you've been lookin' over that map every night. We know where we'd go.”

There was a small town and a gas station about three miles east of the cabin. The town didn't look like much, maybe a bar, a small grocery store, bank, and not much else. Beth could probably make the trip at this point and as scared as he was to see her get injured again or worse, lose her, he knew she needed to be out there, fighting and killing walkers so she didn't get rusty, so she'd be able to defend herself if something happened to him and he wasn't around.

“We better get back if we're gonna go. Need to leave first thing in the morning. It's gonna be a long walk there and back. And who knows what we're gonna find there. Could be overrun.”

“Could be people there. Maybe Maggie and Glenn.”

Daryl nodded and set her down.

“C'mon, sit down and clean your kill.”

Together they sat in the leaves with the rabbit laid out in front of Beth's lap. She sat in between his legs, just like she had the first time he had showed her. She no longer trembled in his arms. Her hands were steady as she made the cuts just like he had showed her and just like she had done with the last two rabbits he had killed. Her cuts were precise and careful, probably years of playing piano had something to do with that. He dipped his fingers into the still warm carcass of the rabbit and then brushed them over her cheeks, leaving a streak of red under each eye.

“You're not gonna make me eat the heart, are ya?” Beth asked.

“What? Nah, not unless ya want to.”

“Did your dad make ya eat the heart of your first kill?”

“Yeah. And it was fucking horrible.”

“Did you throw it up?”

“Nah. But only cause he woulda beat my ass if I did.”

“How old were ya?”

“Dunno, maybe four or five.”

Beth's head dropped back onto his shoulder and her forehead pressed against his jaw. She didn't say anything further. He could sense that it made her sad, but she didn't offer him words of pity or an apology for the actions of a man she would never meet and for that Daryl was grateful. Everything was quiet except for the soft dripping of blood onto the leaves from the knife Beth still held.

“I want to,” Beth said, breaking the silence.

“Want to what?”

“Eat it.”

“Why?”

“If you were strong enough to do it, than so am I.”

He shrugged and helped her remove the heart. She reached out and plucked it from the tip of his knife. Her finger tips were stained with blood. She held the small heart to her lips and sniffed at it nervously. Her lips parted and her tongue wrapped around it as she took it all into her mouth at once. Her face soured and her fingers dug into his thigh. He thought for a minute she was going to throw it up. He heard the sound of her swallowing followed by her sucking in a deep breath. Blood was running down her lips, down her chin. He quickly wiped it away with his thumb and licked it clean. He passed her the canteen and she took a long drink.

“Wasn't so bad was it?” Daryl asked.

“Told ya I could do it.”

“And ya did,” he said, helping her to her feet.

They buried the guts so they wouldn't draw walkers to the cabin. They walked back in silence. Beth carried the rabbit at her side. She had that cocky smile again, the one that made him want to smile too. He put his hand on the back of her neck as they walked. She brought her free arm up and wrapped it around the middle of his back. Their hands were sticky with blood, but Daryl didn't care and he didn't think she did either. Her fingers dug into his ribs as she pulled herself against his side. He was used to this. This was how she supported herself on their walks when her ankle was still hurting. His eyes automatically went down to her boots, but she wasn't limping today or favoring her other leg.

When the cabin came back into view, he swept her off feet and carried her up the porch steps and through the door. It had become one of their rituals, part of their daily walks, and he didn't really want it to stop even though her ankle had healed. Judging by the little gasp and fit of giggles she broke into, she didn't want it to stop either. Daryl put Beth down on the arm of the sofa and barred the door behind them.

When he turned back around, she had fallen back across the couch with her knees bent over the arm. He took off her boots one at a time and rolled off her gray socks. Then turned her foot over, bending her ankle in a hundred different directions while watching her face, looking for any trace of pain.

They quartered the rabbit and rubbed it with some spices and then fried it in some oil on top of the wood stove. They sat eating it on the couch with the map spread in between them. After dinner, Beth decided she wanted a bath. Daryl cleaned out the black backpack and stocked it with a few cans of food, the canteen, some matches, one of the first aid kits and the multitool. He didn't want to pack too much, but he wanted them to have enough supplies to last a day or two in case they got cut off by walkers or otherwise couldn't back tomorrow night.

Daryl sat up on the counter and went over the map again. There was a small trail that led through the woods to the road which would take them to the town. The trail was likely overgrown though and would probably be a struggle for Beth with her ankle having just barely healed.

Beth had left the door cracked slightly, just like last week. The door didn't shut right. He had to slam it when he took a bath after her, to get it closed all the way. He could see a flash of skin as she climbed into the tub. He found himself staring again. He couldn't see much really, just her face, neck, and shoulders, but it was enough to get his heart pounding. He looked away when he realized she was staring back at him. Could he cross the short distance and get in the water with her? No. He still didn't feel good about her seeing his scars, running her hands over them.

He went back to tracing their route on the map. He must have traced it a hundred times by the time Beth remerged from the bathroom wearing that pink nightgown she had been sleeping in. She sat on the couch squeezing the water out of her hair with a towel.

Daryl laid down first and she joined him not long after. He had given up on trying to sleep on the couch after a few nights. One of them always seemed to wake up screaming or yelling from a nightmare and they would wind up in the bed together anyway. He tried to tell himself Rick would do the same thing if Beth was waking up from nightmares screaming his name. A few times he had laid down before her because he was so exhausted and he would wake up with her curled around him. He felt less guilty when he got into bed first. It felt like he wasn't doing anything wrong that way. He wasn't trying to sneak into bed with her. He wasn't being weird or a pervert.

After those few times, Beth seemed to sense this because she would spend quite a bit of time at the end of each night, sitting on the couch, quietly brushing her hair and picking crumbled leaves out of it, all while shooting glances over her shoulder at the bed. When he finally laid down, she would brush her hair a little longer, blow out the candles on the mantle and slide under quilt with him.

Daryl pulled the quilt up to their shoulders. Her bare legs brushed against his under it. Beth lifted her head for him to slide his arm under her neck. This had also become one of their rituals. She moved closer until her their faces almost touched. Her hand found his under the quilt. His other hand rested on her side in that little dip between her ribcage and hips. Beth started singing quietly until they were both sound asleep.

Daryl was sitting on the couch watching some shit made-for-tv movie, drinking an even shittier beer. It was sometime after midnight and Merle would be home soon, probably with some skank he picked up at the bar. He'd probably have gotten her drunk and maybe high too and then he'd fuck her so loud their neighbors would be pounding on the door. And of course Daryl would have to deal with it, likely by telling them to fuck off and slamming the door in their face.

He downed the rest of his beer, crunched the can, and threw it on the floor. He opened another one and fell back onto the couch. Merle burst through the door an hour so later. He was swaying badly on his feet and had a girl tucked under each arm. College girls from the looks of them. One was a brunette with huge tits. Daryl couldn't see her face because she was necking Merle. The other girl looked less than enthused to be there. Probably just making sure the old creep didn't murder her friend and bury her in the back yard.

“Hey brother, brought you something,” Merle laughed. He pushed the blonde girl towards the couch.

The girl stumbled forward, nearly falling in her high heels. She had long pale legs that were barely covered by a short red mini skirt. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail with a braid woven into one side. She was much prettier than the girls Merle usually brought home for him. Merle usually gave him the not-as-attractive friend and half the time he didn't end up fucking whatever girl Merle brought for him.

Merle and the brunette had fallen into his recliner and the girl was ripping her top off. Daryl turned the TV off and threw the remote down.

“C'mon,” Daryl said to the blonde. He took her hand in his.

“Where we goin'?” she asked, shooting a worried look over at her friend.

“Don't worry, she'll be fine. He'll pass out soon anyway.”

He pulled her down the narrow wood paneled hallway to the door on the end—his room, and closed the door behind them.

“You wanna beer or anything?” he asked.

“A beer would be good.”

She looked anxious, sitting on the edge of his bed with her legs crossed.

“Hey, what's your name, sweetheart?”

“It's Beth.”

“Daryl.”

_I know you. But how?_

When he returned from getting a couple beers and a bottle of vodka, she was up walking around, looking at his dvd collection. Her eyes moved upwards and to the right a bit. She reached out and touched the feathers that hung from the bottom of the dreamcatcher above his bed. The little chimes on it jingled--a sad sound. Why it was sad he wasn't sure. She jumped when he closed the door.

"Like it?" Daryl asked, coming to stand next to her. He pressed the beer into her hands.

"It's beautiful," she breathed, turning to look at him.

It really was a nice one. He had bought it one summer, long ago, at a little stand some Indians had set up just off the highway. They were selling a bunch of tribal crafts out of the back of their van. They were also selling peyote and magic mushrooms which is why he and Merle went there to begin with. The dreamcatcher was large and wrapped in soft black leather. Black and red beads dotted the web of clear string in the center. Silver chimes and black feathers--crow or raven, he couldn't remember which, hung from different lengths of string at the bottom of it. 

He heard the sad sounds of the dreamcatcher's chimes as her eyes met his, wide, blue, wet like snow melting into the river at the end of winter. A mournful, but hopeful feeling rushed over him and he could see the clear blue sky reflected in her eyes and hear the sound of birds chirping and water flowing.

"I have one too in my bedroom at the farm, but it's not as nice as this one," Beth told him. She stroked one of the feathers, the chimes jingled again. They sounded like fucking glasses shattering, a hundred of them at once, a painfully sad sound.

"You have nightmares?"

She looked down and nodded, "Yeah, a lot. You?"

Daryl grunted, "Every night. What are yours about?"

"My boyfriend. He was killed."

_Oh._

Daryl felt like he knew this already and he knew how it had happened. Hell, he was pretty sure he had even been there when her boyfriend had been killed. But how?

"What was his name?"

"Zach," she answered, tracing her finger over the outer edge of the dreamcatcher.

The chimes trembled again and the hairs on the back Daryl's neck stood up.

"Sorry for your loss."

"It's ok, Daryl. I don't cry anymore."

Yeah, she had definitely said that to him before.

"What are your nightmares about? Ya lose someone?" Beth asked.

"Nah, well sorta. They're mostly about my dad."

"He gave you those scars, right?"

"Yeah."

He had no idea how she knew all this. She had never seen him naked. Had she?

"Ya can't think about that. You've got to put it away," she said, putting her hand over her heart, "You got to put it away or it kills ya."

Time jumped ahead. He wasn't sure what had happened. Maybe he had blacked out from all the alcohol he had that night.

They were watching something on the little TV in the corner of his room. He couldn't follow it and he didn't remember what it was about—something to do with motorcycles maybe. They sat together on his bed, on top of the cheap, old, navy colored blanket that had images of wolves howling at the moon and a native american chief smoking a pipe. The blanket was covered in ashes and cigarette burns, but she didn't complain. Daryl was watching her as she watched the TV while they passed the bottle of vodka back and forth. It was covered with red smudges from her lipstick.

There was a constant feeling of deja vu hanging over him. He was sure they had met before. Maybe she worked some place around town--the gas station or the liquor store.

“What do you do?” Daryl asked her.

“I'm a student right now. I'm not workin'.”

“What are you studyin'?”

“It's kinda silly.”

“C'mon, tell me.”

“Music and art. Mostly music. I wanna be a singer.”

“Ain't nothin' wrong with that.”

“What do you do?”

“Me and Merle work on bikes. Fix 'em and resell them. Build 'em sometimes.”

“Do you know how to weld?”

“Why?”

“I'm in this sculpture class for my art minor and we have a weldin' project. I missed the demo.”

“Want me to show ya?”

“Now?”

“Yeah, why not?”

They were out in the garage with the door thrown open letting in the night air. Fireflies drifted in and out and it smelled like it was going to rain. He took off the button down long sleeved shirt he was wearing over his black t-shirt and tossed it to her. She put it on. It was so long on her that it hung down past the mini skirt she was wearing. He took the leather apron off the hook and put it over her head and then went behind her to tie it. He tucked the back of her ponytail into the collar of the shirt. He set up the welder and found a couple scraps of metal for her to practice on. They both put on gloves and masks.

“Here, watch me first. You're just going to move it like this makin' little loops.”

He demonstrated the movement for her without lighting the torch. Then he positioned himself behind her and put the torch in her hand. Deja vu rushed over him and she wobbled in her high heels and bumped against him. He could see her holding his crossbow and him standing behind her helping her hold it level. He could feel her heart pounding and his too. He could smell her hair, all lavender and vanilla. She turned her face to look at him and he knew she felt it too. Their masks clattered into each other.

“Sorry, Mr. Dixon,” Beth giggled, biting her lip.

Another wave of deja vu hit Daryl hard along with a feeling like the bottom of his stomach had dropped out. He never told her his last name.

_I know you._

“What the fuck ya doin' out here, baby brother?” Merle had stumbled into the garage. His dog tags sparkled on his bare chest and his pants were undone.

“What's it look like I'm doin'?” Daryl snapped.

“You're supposed to be fuckin' her. Not teachin' metal shop class,” Merle laughed. He turned on Beth, “C'mon sweetheart, why don't you come back inside, have a little fun with me and your pretty friend?”

“No thanks,” she said coldly, “I like your brother better.”

Beth turned and faced Daryl. Her blood red fingernails dug into the front of his t-shirt and her mouth was all over his, wet and hungry and tasting like vodka and beer and lipstick. His fingers tightened around her waist and he pressed his hips against hers. He was already hard from when he was standing behind her, when her ass was pushed up against him. She rolled her hips into his.

“Mmm, Beth,” he groaned into her mouth.

“Daryl?” she pulled back and was giving him a strange look.

Someone was shaking his shoulders.

“Daryl?” she said again. Only this time it wasn't the Beth in his dream.

Beth's head was still laying on his arm, but his other arm was draped over her hip and his hand was squeezing her ass. He had pulled her hips against his and to his embarrassment he was hard in more than just the dream.

“You were grabbing me and sayin' my name in your sleep,” Beth told him.

“Sorry. I--” he started, not knowing how to finish or excuse himself.

“Hey, it's ok. It's not like ya were hurtin' me.”

The quilt had slid down and was tangled around their thighs. Beth's nightgown had ridden up, showing her pink panties and her flat stomach.

“Nah, it's not ok. I should go sleep on the couch.”

He moved to push her away, but she dug her fingers into the back of his t-shirt and pressed her face into his chest.

“Fine. But you're gonna have to take me with ya to the couch.”

_Stubborn as hell._

Daryl sighed into her hair. She must have been able to hear how fast his heart was going. His erection was now pressing even harder into her stomach. There was no way she could not notice it.

“Were you dreamin' about me?”

Daryl sucked in a breath and nodded.

“Was it a good dream?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Oh yeah?” she looked up at him with that impish grin of hers.

Daryl rolled over onto his back to get his erection away from her body. The air in the room was cool since they had put out the stove after they finished cooking. The rush of it against his hot skin was a welcome relief and he felt his heart beat start to slow down.

“It was before the turn. Merle brought you and this other girl home to the house I was rentin' with him.”

“Ewww, why would I come home with Merle?”

“Ya were just trying to watch out for your friend. We got drunk while Merle was fucking her. Then you asked me to teach ya how to weld.”

“Why?”

“Cause you were takin' an art class—a sculpture class.”

“I always liked art classes and music ones of course.”

“Is that what you were plannin' on studyin'?”

“Yeah. I wanted to be a music major, maybe do an art minor or at least take some classes. My mom wanted me to go to veterinary school though. Said that was the only way they'd pay for my college.”

“You're lucky that ya had parents who were willin' to do that.”

“No,” she said shaking her head, “Doesn't matter. Won't get the chance now.”

“Ya don't need to go to school to sing.”

“It would have made me a better singer.”

_You're already really good._

“Nah, don't need school for that,” he insisted again.

Daryl was glad the subject had shifted to what Beth wanted to study in college. He didn't really feel like going into the other details from the dream--the stuff about the dreamcatcher and his dad or the part at the end that had caused him to grope her in his sleep. His heart beat had returned to normal and most of the blood had drained from his erection, which was a relief. He wouldn't need to sleep on the couch after all.

 


	20. Chapter Twenty

The next morning they set off together at dawn. Beth was eager to get going from the minute she woke up. She was tired of being cooped up as a result of her injury. The walks with Daryl helped considerably, but they only made up about an hour of each day. A restlessness she had never know before was growing in her. An anxiety to be out in the forest, to be out hunting, to be killing walkers so she didn't get rusty, an anxiety to be out there with Daryl.

She looked forward to the way he would wrap his arm around her back for support, the way he would curl his fingers into her side, twisting them into the fabric, pulling on the elastic side of her bra. Then when they got back to the cabin, the way he would pick her up, carry her up the stairs and through the door. It had started on their first walk. Her ankle had been throbbing by the time they got back and she was limping bad. Daryl had swept her off her tired feet and carried her inside. He would always sit her on the arm of that scratchy flannel couch, the one he kept insisting he should be sleeping on, and she would flop back on it, feet still dangling over the side, while he bolted the door. Beth would lay there waiting for him to turn around, take her boots off and turn her foot over in his hands while regarding her face carefully, looking for any sign of pain.

Beth looked forward to their bed time rituals even more. She had figured out after one particularly exhausting walk with Daryl, during which they had come across five or six walkers, that if she stayed on the couch and waited for him to lay down on the bed, he didn't really make a fuss about the whole sleeping on the couch bullshit. Partly because he was too tired to put up much of a fight about it, but Beth knew it was partly something else too. Maybe he was realizing it wasn't a bad thing to have her right there when one of them woke up from a nightmare, or just one of the strange dreams they both had been having lately. They were talking about their dreams more, even if she felt she needed to hold back certain parts and she had the feeling that he was holding back bits and pieces too, especially after last night when she woke up to find him groping her ass and pulling her against his erection.

Beth had been sleeping soundly and not dreaming for once. Daryl was calling her name and she thought he was shaking her awake. Panic and adrenaline instantly jolted her out of her sleep. She thought he was waking her because they had to flee the cabin because why else would he be waking her when she was sleeping so deeply?

She quickly realized that he wasn't trying to wake her and he was moaning her name, not shouting it. She shivered, feeling the cold air against her bare stomach where the nightgown had ridden up. The cold air was quickly replaced by Daryl's hot, sweaty body as he dragged his hips against hers. His hand trailed up the back of her bare thigh and fisted in the back of her panties as he tried to drag her closer, but she was already pressed firmly against him. The pressure felt good, too good. She could already feel wetness between her legs. She let it go on for a few more minutes, enjoying the feeling, enjoying the way he mumbled her name with every thrust. But, Beth felt guilty. She knew he'd be embarrassed at what he was doing and it was better to wake him up than to let it go on.

And he was embarrassed when she finally got him to open his eyes. It took his brain a minute to work out where his hand was and what his erection was pressing into. He tried to pull away. He tried to go sleep on that damn couch again, but Beth wouldn't let him. She wasn't going to let him run away from this, from her. She needed him to know that this was ok. They had talked for awhile about her college plans and Beth guessed that took his mind off other things because he started to relax and eventually they both fell back to sleep. He was still in the bed next to her when he woke her for the run.

Beth watched the faded wings of Daryl's vest bobbing through the leaves in front of her. He looked so much different in the daylight, all clad in denim and cracked leather, all knives, muscle, and hard edges with his crossbow slung over his shoulder. His crossbow strap rested in almost the same spot she had grown used to laying her head every night. At night he was cotton and rough skin, a t-shirt and the sweatpants, his fingers tangled in her hair, listening to her sing until they both fell asleep.

Daryl smiled at her over his shoulder. He had stopped walking ahead of her and waited for her to catch up.

“Your ankle givin' ya trouble?”

“No. Well a little bit. But I'm fine.”

“Here,” he offered, shifting his crossbow so she could put her arm around his neck.

She opened her mouth to tell him again she was fine, but what the heck? It was nice to have his arm around her waist and the extra support for her ankle wouldn't hurt anything. They walked like that until they came to the road on the map. They followed the road from inside the cover of the treeline until they reached the gas station which was just on the outskirts of the tiny town.

They watched for awhile, hidden in the trees, to make sure no one was holed up inside. They crossed the street when Daryl was satisfied that it looked unoccupied. Daryl rubbed one of the windows with the back of his hand. Inside, Beth could see bits of trash, packages and broken shelves scattered across the green and white tiles. A walker threw itself against the glass. Daryl raised his crossbow and nodded at Beth. A bell jingled as she pulled the door open. Daryl shot the walker before it could even get close. They waited and listened, but nothing else stirred. Daryl nodded again and she followed him inside.

Daryl started digging around behind the counter, tossing empty boxes onto the floor. Beth walked around the back towards the coolers. The shelf that had contained medicine had collapsed and various packets and bottles of pills were scattered and broken open in the aisle. Beth picked through them and put everything that wasn't open and anything that might be even slightly useful into the backpack. She took a tube of toothpaste and a few toothbrushes, but left the soaps and shampoos since the cabin and the broken down car were already well stocked with those items.

Beth moved along the aisle picking up whatever food items she came across, a few banana nut granola bars that had been passed over, a can of corned beef hash, a few candy bars and a couple of cherry flavored lollipops. She tore off the wrapper of one and popped it into her mouth. The sugary tartness of it made her salivate and her lips pucker.

She paused at the end of the aisle in front of a display of baby toys that were meant to clip onto a car seat. A wave of nausea rolled through her as an image of Judith being torn apart by walkers flashed through her head. No, she couldn't let herself think like that. Judith had to have made it out. Someone must have protected her, at least Beth hoped so with all her heart.

“You ok?” Daryl asked.

He had stopped digging around behind the counter and was watching her carefully.

“I'm fine, just thinkin' about Judith.”

“Hey, she made it. Probably with Rick and Carl somewhere right now.”

Beth gave him a small smile. His hopefulness made her feel better, stronger. She shoved a little stuffed giraffe with a rattle in it into her backpack. When they found the others, the first thing she was going to do was give that toy to Judith.

Daryl came up behind her and patted the back of her neck. She heard the click of a lighter and a faint smoky smell stung her nose.

“Want one now?” he offered. He had a cigarette dangling from from his lips and a couple cartons full tucked under his arm. She held out the backpack for him and he shoved them in.

“Nah, I'm gonna wait until we get back.”

“Not much here. Did ya find anything?”

“Not much, a few granola bars, some toothpaste, and this.”

Beth slowly pulled the sucker out of her mouth, letting it hover for a few seconds against her lips as it passed through them. Daryl watched her, his eyes drinking up every tiny movement. He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth leaving his lips parted slightly. She raised it slowly to his mouth and pushed it gently past his lips. Her body was crackling with electricity. Waves of anticipation rolled through her stomach and she could feel herself starting to get wet.

She disregarded what she had said minutes ago, and gently took the cigarette out of his hand and brought it up to her lips. It was slightly wet from his mouth. How did Maggie used to do this? How did she make it look so effortless, so sexy and grownup? Beth wished she would have thought to ask her. She sucked in carefully, hoping she wouldn't cough and look like an idiot. The candy had coated her mouth and her throat so the smoke only produced a mild irritation, not enough to make her choke. Beth parted her lips and allowed the smoke to roll through them, covering them both in a haze.

Daryl sucked on the lollipop thoughtfully as he watched her. She could tell his tongue was rolling over every inch of it. She took another careful drag on the cigarette. He had that hungry look in his eyes again, the one from her dream, the one she touched herself twice to thinking about. She pulled the cigarette away from her mouth and licked her lips. They tasted like the sucker. They tasted like tobacco. Daryl took the sucker out of his mouth and replaced it with the cigarette. He held the lollipop out for her and she took it back. He watched her slide it past her lips. Beth circled her tongue around it . It now had a slightly smoky taste to it. Is that what he tasted like?

A passing walker slammed into the front window of the station. Beth jumped and Daryl raised his crossbow. He nodded to her and she pulled the backpack over her shoulders. Daryl stabbed the walker in the head. He and Beth walked down the deserted sidewalk, past a couple of burnt out buildings. Faded magazines, food wrappers, and leaves blew across their path. Their boots scraped the broken concrete and echoed off the hollow brick ruins. Emptiness throbbed through her. Beth knew they wouldn't find Maggie or Rick or anyone else there.

_It's like we're the last two people in the world._

Beth shot a sideways glance at Daryl. She moved a little closer and twined her fingers in his. He looked back at her with that thoughtful look and folded his fingers over hers.

_I'm glad we're here together at the end of the world._

As the thought crossed her mind she squeezed his hand and he squeezed hers back in response to the words that hung unsaid between them.

_Me too._

Maybe they didn't need to be said. The feeling of his rough calloused palm sliding against hers was enough. The smoky taste that lingered on the sucker that was still in her mouth was enough.

Most of the other buildings didn't look worth checking. The small mini mart's roof had caved in. They couldn't have gone in if they wanted to. At least they had plenty of food at the cabin.

The last building was a good couple blocks away and was still in decent condition. It was a shabby windowless rusty red building. The neon sign above the flimsy brown door read “Shotgun Willie's”. Sun-bleached flyers were peeling off the siding near the door, desperately trying to cling to the wood as the wind ripped across them. Daryl tore one off. His face started to turn red as he looked at. He crumpled it up and dropped it into the parking lot.

Daryl held his crossbow up as she slowly pulled the door open. The air was stale, but not horribly so. Parts of the roof had collapsed and every time the wind blew, a shower of leaves rained down. A large mirror frame hung behind a wooden bar lined with red leather stools. Broken glass littered the floor around it. Three dried up corpses were slumped over in the barstools.

Beth walked past them, past more corpses that sat in the tiny chairs and tables that were huddled around the stage in the back of the room. The stage had three dusty bronze poles, one in the middle and one on either side, but those weren't what caught Beth's eye. Off to the side, was a silver microphone, one of those old fashioned ones, that looked like it came straight out of a prohibition era nightclub. She climbed onto the stage, ignoring the twinge of pain of in her ankle. Her fingers ached to touch it. Her hands closed around it. The cold metal sent waves of goosebumps rushing down her arms.

“Beth?” his hand on her shoulder made her jump, “C'mon.” Daryl nodded towards a black curtain at the back of the stage.

He moved aside the heavy velvet curtain, raising a cloud of dust and causing them to both choke. She followed him down a hallway which was lined with more corpses, one of which was wearing a lilac wig and a gold bikini. They found an office and a dressing room and more bodies, but no walkers. When Daryl was satisfied with the sweep he nodded at her and they began to scavenge. Daryl took the office and she could hear him next door, opening and slamming desk drawers and shifting through piles of paper.

Beth stood in the dressing room alone. It was a fairly small and cramped room. Mirrors and a counter lined the back wall and racks of clothes were pushed off to the sides. There was a pile of shoes in one of the corners. Two female corpses were sitting at the counter. One was a blonde who had been bitten on her red platform, stiletto clad legs. Probably couldn't run away in those shoes. She had her head thrown back, long blonde hair almost touching the floor. The hair at the crown of her head was matted with bits of blood and brains and a chunk of her skull lay amongst the plaster and glass on the floor. The other one was a brunette who was bent forward in her chair, head laying on the counter, a pistol clutched in her red manicured fingers. Her other arm hung down limply, fingers lightly tangled with those of the other girl. Beth felt a stab of pain in her chest.

_Coulda been Maggie and I._

Beth dragged them from their chairs and laid them side by side at the far end of the room. She ripped a couple of silk robes off one of the racks and covered the two women. Beth dropped the gun in her backpack and fumbled around the dusty counter looking for anything else that might be useful. There wasn't much, a matchbook with a few matches left in it, a half-empty pack of cigarettes, a protein bar, a roll of skinny clear tape, and a bottle of some kind of oil. Beth slid all of it into her bag. The rest of the clutter was makeup, tubes of lipstick and mascara, packages of fake eyelashes, brushes and eyeshadow palettes and bottles of nail polish.

Next door she could still hear Daryl digging around so she decided to look through the racks of clothing. Most of it was impractical, skimpy, brightly colored and made for someone with much bigger breasts. Beth held up a few different bikini tops, a lime green one and a neon yellow. She imagined laying out in the backyard at the cabin in a lawn chair, sunglasses on, Daryl's crossbow in her lap, sucking on a lollipop while she watched Daryl do something manly like chop wood or weed the garden or kill walkers. She let out a snort of laughter at the absurdity of the fantasy. It was completely ridiculous, but she figured it wouldn't hurt to take one. She could wear it in the tub maybe if nothing else. Maybe then Daryl would take a bath with her.

Her ankle was starting to throb a little so she sat down in one of the chairs left vacant by the corpses. Her reflection stared back at her through the blood splattered glass, wide eyed and pale. She took off her boot and massaged her ankle. Something clinked to the floor as her shoulder bumped into the counter—a bottle of red nail polish, candy cane red, deep lusty red. She twisted the cap. It took almost all her strength to get it to budge, but it finally came off with a dry, crusty little squeak. She couldn't remember the last time she had painted her nails. At the farm maybe. Before Jimmy died, before Carl was shot, before Rick and Daryl and everyone else came to live there, came to be a part of her family. She brushed the color over her nails, each stroke a pointless gesture that would soon be forgotten. She did her toes too since she already had one shoe and sock off. She knew it would all be chipped off in a few days, but she didn't care. It was still pretty to look at even if it wouldn't last.

While she waited for her nails to dry, she toyed with a tube of red lipstick, rolling it up and down for awhile before spreading some over her lips. She opened up two or three tubes of mascara before she found one that wasn't dried out and brushed it on over her lashes, making them black—black as that strange lake. She sat there a little longer. Daryl was taking forever. She should wipe off the make up and go see what he was up to.

Instead, a black sparkly dress at the end of the rack caught her eye. It was covered in sequins, with a halter top and a neckline that plunged in a deep v all the way down to were its skirt began. The skirt was extremely short, but was layered with a longer one that was made out of a sheer and completely see-through black material and had a split up the front that ran from the floor all the way up to the hem of the shorter skirt. Beth held it up to her body and then quietly pushed the door shut and stripped down to her panties. She removed her bra too since the dress had built in padded cups and because the back was completely open.

She examined herself in the mirror. She pulled her hair free from the ponytail and let it fall down her naked back. Beth found a decent looking fake leather belt that had plastic handcuffs dangling from it. She put it around her waist and tucked her swords on either side. The skirt just barely covered her butt and the neckline fell past her bellybutton.

The hem of the see-though part of the skirt dragged through the broken plaster on the floor. She dug through the pile of of shoes in the corner. She tried a few pairs on before deciding on a glittery pair of red peep-toe stilettos. The hem of the skirt no longer dragged on the ground. She wondered if she would be taller than Daryl as she looked herself over in the full length mirror on the back of the door.

The sounds of paper rustling had stopped. Beth slowly pulled open the door and peered into the hall. She couldn't see any light moving inside the office. The sound of her heels clicking echoed off the wood paneled walls as she made her way back to the velvet curtain. She pushed it aside and emerged onto the stage. Sunlight from one of the holes in the roof was illuminating the silver microphone and it was calling to her in a ghostly whisper. Beth crossed the dark stage. Glass from the broken spotlights crunched under her heels. The microphone was now dead center at the front of the stage. Daryl must have moved it. That was the only logical explanation. Goosebumps covered her arms and the parts of her back that were left naked by her hair.

_Never sung out in front of a big group. Like it was fun._

Her red fingernails curled around the cold metal. She looked out into the dark audience of corpses, slumped over in the chairs, beer bottles littering the tables in front of them. She thought she could hear Daryl's boots moving in the hallway behind her. She thought of the two women in the dressing room. She thought of Maggie. She thought of Rick and Carl and Judith. She thought of Daryl. She thought of everyone and everything they had lost. She thought of this place and the audience that sat before her. She lowered her eyes and parted her lips. The words started as a whisper in her brain--no in her heart, and pushed past her cherry-red lips.

_You said that I was the most exotic flower_

_Holding me tight in our final hour._

The sound of a chair scraping caused her to look up. She could see Daryl moving through the shadows behind the bar. She heard a glass break.

_I don't know how you convince them and get them, but_

_I don't know what you do, it's unbelievable_

_And I don't know how you get over, get over,_

_Someone as dangerous, tainted, and flawed as you._

The chair scraped again as one of the corpses began to stumbled towards the stage drawn by the sound of her voice. Beth watched it through lidded eyes, before looking back up at Daryl.

_One for the money, and two for the show,_

_I love you honey, I'm ready, I'm ready to go_

_How did you get that way? I don't know_

_You're screwed up and brilliant,_

_Look like a million dollar man,_

_So why is my heart broke?_

As she sang the line, she crouched down at the edge of the stage and stabbed the walker through the eye with one of her short swords. It let out a soft gurgle. Its head hit the edge of the stage, as she withdrew her sword. She returned to the microphone and put her sword back in her belt.

_You got the world but baby at what price?_

_Something so strange, hard to define._

Another walker was moving hungrily towards the stage. It was a male, wearing a shredded t-shirt. His entire left arm had been eaten and only the bone remained. He stood at the edge of the stage, fingers reaching for the black fabric that hung against the red glitter of her shoes. Beth was just out of his grasp.

_It isn't that hard boy to like you or love you,_

_I'd follow you down, down, down._

The walker had inched forward and leaned on the stage, his fingers now brushed the naked skin of her legs. Beth bent over and in one swift movement, drove her sword through his hand pinning it to the stage. Daryl had moved out from behind the bar. A chair creaked somewhere in the back as he sat down. She could only make out the glint of his eyes from where he sat in shadows.

_You're unbelievable_

_If you're going crazy, just grab me and take me._

_I'd follow you down, down, anywhere, anywhere._

The walker was still growling away from the spot she had pinned it. She could barely hear it though, over the tempo in her chest and the sultry sound of her voice as it filled the room.

_One for the money, and two for the show,_

_I love you honey, I'm ready, I'm ready to go,_

_How did you get that way? I don't know_

_You're screwed up and brilliant,_

_Look like a million dollar man,_

_So why is my heart broke?_

A glass sparkled in the back of the room. Daryl was drinking something, but his eyes were glued to Beth. She felt her whole body tremble under the weight of his gaze. The walker had become extremely agitated. She stared down at him with sad eyes. Beth lifted her leg and laid her foot against his forehead, before plunging the sharp point of her heel through his eye socket. He gave one last gasp and she slowly and deliberately pulled her foot away. Black blood ran down the glittery stiletto and pooled on the stage beneath her.

_One for the money, and two for the show,_

_I love you honey, I'm ready, I'm ready to go,_

_How did you get that way? I don't know,_

_You're screwed up and brilliant,_

_Look like a million dollar man,_

_So why is my heart broke?_

Beth looked down and caressed the microphone again as she sang the final lines of the song.

_I don't know,_

_You're screwed up and brilliant,_

_Look like a million dollar man,_

_So why is my heart broke?_

Beth's body burned with electricity. Maybe it was just the feeling of the cool air against her naked skin. Maybe it was just from the weight of Daryl's eyes on her. Maybe it was the way the words of the song still seemed to linger in the room long after she had fallen silent. She kept her eyes down, drinking in the sight of the dead walker, her sword sticking up from the stage, and the blood staining her stilettos and pale legs. Someone was clapping, a slow, sad, hollow, echoing sound, but she didn't look up until she heard footsteps approaching.

“Who says you're not a badass?” Daryl asked, nodding at the dead walker.

“Guess it was pretty badass,” she agreed, trying not to be too cocky.

“Wanna drink?” he asked, offering her his hand.

“Hell yeah I do.” Her mouth suddenly felt unbearably dry and she didn't think it was from singing.

Beth let him help her down from the stage. His hand was hot and sweaty in hers. She could smell liquor on his breath. She took her time, moving slowly, partly because her ankle was throbbing, partly because even though she wasn't looking at him, she could feel his eyes burning up every inch of exposed skin as she glided down the stairs. When she reached the bottom, she stood eye to eye with him and smiled. She was almost the same height as him with the boost from her shoes. He held her hand and made sure she didn't trip on all the debris that covered the floor between the stage and the bar and he helped her up onto one of the stools. Once upon a time, Jimmy had tried to do all those things for her on their first date. Jimmy had been awkward about it and Beth wasn't used to someone doing all those things for her. With Daryl it felt different, smooth, effortless, right. She supposed she was used to relying on him by now for physical support.

They sat together at the bar sipping vodka out of a chipped glass. Beth guessed it was the only glass he could find that wasn't broken.

“What no moonshine?” she laughed, turning the glass in her hands.

“Nah. Had a craving for vodka anyway.”

Beth took a long drink. It was easier to drink than the moonshine, but it was still pretty gross. She scrunched up her brow and swallowed. It burned going down, leaving a trail of warmth back up to her brain. Her lipstick left a red print on the glass. She went to wipe it off, but Daryl snatched away the glass and downed the rest of the vodka before she could.

“Cause of the dream?”

_Cause of me?_

“Yeah, must be.”

Daryl poured another one and passed her the cup. She took another drink, pressing her lips to the outline she left the first time. She could feel her brain slowly becoming wrapped in a warm fuzz. She sat the glass back down and slid it to him. He caught her fingers in his before she could put her hand down.

“Nail polish too, huh?

“Found it in the dressin' room.”

She kicked off her heels and put her feet across his lap.

“Did my toes too. You were takin' forever in that office.”

“Was I?”

“What were ya doin' in there all that time? Find somethin' nice to look at?” she teased.

“Nah. Nothin' like that.” He was staring into the glass. He brushed his thumb across the lipstick stain. She couldn't be sure, but he looked like he was trembling very slightly. She took the glass back from him and downed the rest.

“It's ok if ya need to. I need to too.”

Beth slid her legs over his lap, rubbing them against the rough denim and the hard muscles of his thighs. She kept up the movement because it felt good. Then she noticed he had an erection. Daryl had refilled the glass and was taking a drink when she brushed across it. He groaned into the cup. Did he have it the whole time they were drinking? Did she cause it? He breathed her name and something that sounded like stop, before his hand shot out and grabbed her leg.

“Sorry,” she said, blushing.

“Nah, it's ok. Felt good, but it's jus', we shouldn't.”

She nodded slowly. They shouldn't. Not now. They hadn't defined their relationship yet. She wanted him to lead, since he seemed more reluctant than she was, even if she didn't fully understand why.

Daryl hopped down from the barstool and picked up her shoes.

“C'mon, can't have ya steppin' in glass. We should get back.”

He put her shoes on for her, one at a time and she wasn't sure if it was the drink or something else, but the small gesture made her body swell with happiness.

Back in the dressing room, she put her own clothes back on. She left the dress slung over the back of one of the chairs and the heels up on the counter under the blood-stained mirror. She tossed the tube of red lipstick into her backpack and found another one in a neon pink color and wrote a note on the mirror with it. She wrote “Rick”, “Maggie”, and “Daryl and Beth are alive and were here.” Maybe they could come back in a few weeks and see if there was a response. Maybe someone from their group would find this place and see it. Daryl was waiting for her outside the door of the dressing room.

“I'm glad we came here,” Beth said quietly.

“Me too.”

“Yeah?”

“Glad I got to hear ya sing.”

“But you've heard me sing before. I sing every night.”

“Nah, this was different.”

She wondered how so. Because she was all dressed up, standing in front of a microphone that didn't work? Because she was singing to a room of corpses and walkers? Beth tore open the wrapper on another sucker and stuck it in her mouth.

“Why ya lookin' at me like that? Not like I'm even that good.”

“Ya are. I told ya, you don't need school to be a singer.”

“Only one person even clapped.”

“I don't think any of them bastards came here to listen to singin'.”

“Guess I shoulda took my clothes off instead,” she teased.

Beth smiled at him with the sucker between her teeth.

Daryl pulled a cigarette out of the pack in his vest pocket and lit it. He took a long drag and then blew out the cloud of smoke, covering them both in a haze. He had that look again, the one where she could see that he was lost in his head.

“C'mon, sweetheart, let's get outta this shit hole," Daryl said, swinging his arm down so his palm slapped against hers. His fingers closed tightly around hers and he was dragging her past the corpses huddled at their tables and slumped over the bar. "These assholes probably wouldn't know real talent if it hit 'em over the head." 

Together they emerged back into the sunlight and left that shit hole, as Daryl lovingly referred to it. They made their way back up the sidewalk, the last two people on Earth, Beth with a sucker in her mouth and Daryl with a cigarette in his.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics in this chapter are from Lana Del Rey's Million Dollar Man. Also as a side note, yesterday Lana Del Rey's Facebook page posted a picture of her with Norman Reedus. Aww yeah! :)


	21. Twenty One

Daryl's brain was reeling. Beth seemed completely level headed as she bounced along next to him. His thoughts were a tangled jumble inside his skull. He didn't remember walking from the strip club back across town to the treeline. He vaguely recalled Beth killing two walkers on the way. She stabbed them with her short sword without even letting go of his hand, without even taking that damn sucker out of her mouth.

This whole damn day had felt like a roller coaster—one that went up a hill and when it got to the top, the train came off the tracks and sailed into space, going higher and higher until it orbited the earth.

It started with that damn sucker. She had to know what she was doing to him when she slowly pulled it out of her mouth and then pushed it into his. At least she didn't notice how hard he was then. She was too busy having a few drags on his cigarette and eye fucking him while he circled his tongue around that sucker trying to taste her.

Beth said he was in the office for a long time. He supposed he was. He couldn't think straight. He was digging through stacks of papers, through desk drawers and filing cabinets, but he couldn't see a damn thing he was looking at. All he could see was her, her and that sucker, that cigarette, and those eyes of hers.

_Find somethin' nice to look at in there?_

Yes he did, something in his head and no matter how much he slammed drawers and tossed papers around, it did nothing to stop the thoughts or ease the throbbing in his jeans.

_It's ok if ya need to._

He had thought about it, just closing the door to the office for a few minutes, unzipping his pants and thinking about her while he stroked himself. He would think about her eating that sucker and smoking that cigarette, think about her in that pink nightgown and pink panties rubbing against him at night, think about when she took her shirt off to let him look at her cut, think about her slumped over on the floor with her pants off, touching herself. He wondered what she was thinking about when she touched herself. He wondered which thought sent her over the edge and caused her to make that little gasp.

He couldn't do it though. It didn't feel right. It wasn't the time or place for it. God forbid something happened while he was jerking off and he had to run out of there while trying to shove his dick back in his pants and zip up.

Daryl had found a few more maps in that office and not much else. When he came out of the office, Beth had the door to the dressing room partly closed so he went back out to the bar area. He figured he'd look for some alcohol and hopefully calm himself down. A glint of silver caught his eye as he jumped down from the stage. It was that microphone Beth had been staring at when they first walked in.

Daryl moved it to the center of the stage. He had hoped maybe when she finished in there, she would come out and sing. He never dreamed she'd come out in that skimpy little black dress that barely covered her ass and her tits and those red heels with her lips all painted red. He hadn't really looked up when she first started singing. He was too busy digging around behind the bar, but when he did look up, the glass he was holding had slipped out of his hand and broke.

God, she was so beautiful standing in that beam of sunlight. He could see her red lips glistening from the back of the room. Her voice wrapped around his naked arms like velvet, giving him goosebumps. She was magick and he was completely under her spell, bound by her words, by those red lips and that pale soft skin. He found himself being drawn to the stage, but something about her was terrifying so he resisted as much as he could and took a seat in the back of the room at one of those little tables.

He wasn't the only one awakened by her song. A walker had stumbled towards the stage. Daryl's body had tensed up and his hand immediately went to his knife.

_I can take care of myself._

He relaxed. She had one of her swords in her hands. She was watching the walker carefully—no with a kind of sadness that floated on her words. Was she singing to it?

In one swift movement, she drove her sword through its head, without missing a word of her song. Her voice didn't even shake. Not long after she had disposed of that walker, another was coming for her. This poor bastard only had one arm. The other one had been chewed clean off. It bumped against the stage, groping for her legs. This time she pinned its hand to the stage instead of killing it. The hair on the back of Daryl's neck stood up. She was singing to them. He suddenly felt out of place. This was a concert for the dead. She left the walker there for awhile longer, until almost the end of her song. Daryl thought she'd use her other sword to take care of it, but instead she put her foot against its forehead and drove the heel of shoe through its eye socket. It was the sexiest, most badass thing Daryl had ever seen in his life.

His boner had returned and he wanted the song to go on forever. When it did end, he sat there transfixed. Her words still hung in the air, wrapped him in a fog, made his skin tingle. He came to his senses after a few minutes and clapped for her, a sad, lonely, echoing sound. He didn't remember walking to the stage, but there he was, offering her his hand, his eyes glued to her as she moved down the stairs—moved, not walked, it seemed like she wasn't even touching the ground, hell maybe neither of them were.

Daryl needed a drink and he wanted Beth to have one with him. Her lipstick had stained the glass, the only glass he could find in the place that wasn't shattered. She had tried to wipe it off, but he stopped her. He wanted to taste her mixed with the vodka. And yes, it was because of the dream that he was craving it.

Beth changed back into her skinny jeans before they left. Daryl kind of wished she would have brought that dress with her. Sure it was completely impractical, but it looked so damn good on her, especially on that stage and when she was sitting at the bar with him, rubbing those long slender legs over his erection. There was blood from the walker splattered across her pale skin and still dripping from her stilettos. Those shoes looked damn good on her too. Daryl's cock was throbbing in his pants again. He hadn't wanted to tell her to stop rubbing. He wanted more than that. He wanted to pull her onto his lap and let her roll her hips over his.

Daryl's foot tangled on a root and he staggered forward, catching himself just before he hit the ground. He damn near pulled Beth down too because she was still clinging to his hand. She pulled him to his feet.

“Gotta be more careful, Daryl,” she said with a sigh.

He grunted. He did need to be more careful. He needed to get his head back from outer space before he got them both fucking killed with his carelessness. He took a deep breath and conjured up the image of Merle's walker in his mind. The blood quickly began to drain out of his boner.

They stopped about half way back to the cabin because Beth's ankle was hurting. Daryl let her hop on his back and carried her the rest of the way. He didn't mind at all. He liked feeling the heat of her body through her jeans, through her tank top, and having his fingers wrapped around her thighs.

She was still eating that sucker and her head was over his shoulder. He could hear every time she popped it in and out of her mouth and all the little movements her tongue made over it. God, he was getting hard again. Hopefully she wouldn't look down. He focused on Merle's image again and got rid of it.

Daryl stopped when he heard leaves crunching. Just ahead of them a walker staggered onto the trail.

“I got it,” Beth whispered in his ear.

She reached around him and lifted his crossbow from where it hung across his chest. He had already loaded it so it was ready if they needed it in a hurry. She wriggled against his back and he readjusted his hands on her thighs. He felt her back straighten and her hips push down, sitting up in his hands. The muscles in his arms strained as he lifted her a bit higher so she had room to hold the crossbow level. He heard her take a deep breath and the arrow flew from the bow and struck the walker right between the eyes just as it turned to look at them.

“Holy shit, girl! Nice shot!” Daryl told her.

“I just got lucky. I still miss most of the time.”

“Rabbits are smaller and faster.”

“I'm still not that good aiming. Like I said, I was just lucky.”

“Nah, you're gettin' better. I can see it.”

She lowered the bow and draped it back over his chest. He lowered her and readjusted his hands and she wrapped her arms around his shoulders. Her cheek brushed against his.

“Maybe I am. It's cause I had a good teacher,” she whispered in his ear before kissing him on the cheek.

Daryl wondered if the kiss had left a lipstick print on his cheek. It made his heart swell with happiness to hear her say that.

When the cabin came into view, Daryl let Beth down. He shifted his crossbow to his back and took the backpack from her. He hooked his arm under her knees and wrapped the other one under her arms and swept her off her feet. He carried her across the yard and up the stairs. She dug around his vest pocket for the key and unlocked the padlock. He sat her down on the arm of the couch and turned to bolt the door behind them. When he turned back around, she was flopped back over the arm of the couch watching him. He removed her boots and socks and checked her ankles. The injured one felt a little swollen, not a lot and it wasn't bruised. He gave her some ibuprofen for it anyways.

Beth got the water heating for a bath and then went to work warming up a few cans of vegetables for dinner while Daryl emptied the backpack. He dumped the contents of it out on the rug in front of the fireplace. He put the cartons of cigarettes in one of the kitchen cupboards and put away the few food items they had found. Daryl set the little giraffe toy up on the mantle. Judith was going to love it when they found her and Rick. He smiled, remembering that day in the prison library when he watched Beth bouncing Judith on her hip and he showed her the picture of the hunter goddess. He couldn't wait to see Beth holding her again. Maybe when they found the others, Daryl would help Beth babysit Judith sometime. It would be fun spending the day just the three of them.

Something yellow had rolled almost completely under the couch. He bent over and scooped it up.

“What in the hell is this?” he laughed, holding up a tiny bra top.

Her face reddened when she saw what he was holding up and the spoon she was stirring the carrots with clattered to the floor.

“Plan on fightin' walkers in your underwear from now on?”

_I wouldn't mind seein' that._

He could see her brain working trying to find the words to explain herself. She crossed the room and snatched it out of his hands. She had a breathless look.

“I thought I could wear it in the bath,” she answered.

“And why would ya do that?”

“The water's almost cold by the time I get out of the bath. I figured maybe if I wore that, you'd be ok with sharing the bath with me.”

His heartbeat sped up. Yes, he wanted that, but he was anxious at the same time.

“What am I gonna wear?” he asked.

“There's some swimmin' trunks in the wardrobe. Ya could try those.”

He still felt apprehensive. He couldn't wear a shirt in the bath.

“It gets pretty dark in there at night. We only have a few candles in there,” she said, trying to smooth over his nerves. She gave him a small reassuring smile.

She did have a point. She had already seen his scars before and more than once too. It was still a bad idea. With everything that had happened today, seeing her in that little bikini was just going to add more fuel to the fire that he was already struggling to control.

“It'll be dark, Daryl,” she said again.

“Nah, it's fine. Don't need a bath tonight.”

“Daryl, you're covered in dirt and walker blood from the run.”

It was getting so hard to tell her no. It was kind of stupid for them to take separate baths when the tub was big enough for them both to fit and it was so dark in that room anyways. They were both adults. They could both control themselves. They'd controlled themselves this far.

He grunted and nodded. It was worth it to see her smile.

They ate the veggies, some bland mix of carrots, peas, and corn, sitting on the couch. Beth had the bikini draped over her lap as she ate. He tried not to look at it, tried not to let himself get hard. When they finished eating, Beth dug in the wardrobe and handed him a pair of red swim trunks with some logo on one of the legs that looked like an alligator.

“You can get in first. Let me know when you're changed and in the water.”

He nodded and took the swim trunks from her. He shut the door behind him and stripped off his clothes as fast as he could. His heart was pounding in his ears. Afraid she was watching him through the crack in the door, afraid she'd burst in on him before he could get into the water, afraid she'd run her hands all over his scars.

The swim trunks fit, but were a little tight around his thighs and waist. He blew out all the candles except for one that was sitting on top of the cupboard in the corner. He could barely see his reflection in dirty old mirror. Good. She wouldn't be able to see much either. He got into the bath. The water did feel a lot better than it did the previous two times he'd taken a bath after her. He felt his muscles relaxing from the warmth, despite the fact that his heart was still racing.

“Beth?” he called.

He could see movement outside the door and slowly it creaked open. He sunk down into the water as light from the main room spilled in. For the few seconds he could see her face, he thought she looked as nervous as he felt. She pushed the door shut behind her leaving only a sliver of light peeking through. He tried not to stare as she climbed the steps into the tub. He had seen her topless before and he had seen her ass when she was bathing in the lake. She didn't know about that time though.

The bikini was a little big for her breasts, probably made for some bimbo with fake tits, and the bottom only barely covered a tiny triangle several inches down from her bellybutton and the back showed off most of her ass. She sunk down into the water across from him. He could feel his body relax more. She was right, it was extremely dark in there and he couldn't see her body at all below the dark surface of the water, even though he kind of wished he could.

“Today was a good day,” Beth said.

“Yeah, it was,” he agreed.

“I think we should do runs more often. Now that my ankle is better.”

“You ain't even had your smoke yet. The one at the gas station didn't count. You only had a few puffs. Gotta have a whole one.”

“I'm waitin'.”

“For what?”

“For the right moment.”

“And when's that gonna be?”

“Dunno yet, but I'll know it when I see it.”

Beth picked up one of the rags that was draped over the side of the tub and the bar of lavender soap. She ran the soapy rag over her arms, over her neck, and down between her breasts. The bikini top moved around awkwardly and he could tell it was annoying her. He could see her wince when she passed it over the cut on her chest. He moved forward to get a better look at it.

“How's it healing? I ain't looked at it in a while,” Daryl asked her.

“It still hurts sometimes, but at least it never got infected. I think it's scarring over.”

“Here, lemme see.”

Beth leaned in closer. There was a soft swoosh as she reached up out of the water and untied the bikini top. She pulled it off over her head and dropped it over the side of the tub.

“Sorry, I couldn't stand that thing any longer. It's my fault for having such small boobs I suppose.”

Daryl found himself looking down at them where they were just barely visible in the dim light beneath the surface of the water.

“They're fine.”

“What?”

“Your tits.”

“Daryl...”

“Sorry,” he mumbled, shaking his head.

His eyes went back up to her cut. It was almost healed. It was definitely going to leave a scar though. He ran his thumb over the length of it, starting at her shoulder, moving down across her chest to where it disappeared beneath the surface. When he reached the end of it, his fingers brushed against her nipple. He started to pull his hand away. Beth's hands shot out and grabbed his and slammed his palm against her breast so it completely covered it.

“They're not ok. They're not big like Maggie's or Michonne's or Carol's.”

“Stop. Don't compare yourself to them. They're fine.”

Her tits were on the small side, but far from the smallest he'd seen and they were nice and perky and soft.

He brought his other hand up and cupped her right breast. He squeezed them both at the same time and felt her nipples harden against his palms. What the hell was he thinking? Well to be fair, he wasn't thinking anything. He was just doing what felt right. She let out a quiet gasp and he slowly pulled his hands away.

“Do you like them?” she asked.

“Well duh, but I like the person they're attached to more.”

At first he wasn't sure he had said it out loud, but he saw her look down and he thought he could see her cheeks getting pink, but it might have just been from the heat of the bath. Either way, she was smiling again and she passed him the rag and the bar of soap.

Daryl scrubbed his arms and chest and then reached up to clean the back of his neck. Beth was staring at him.

“Turn around, I've got your back.”

“Nah, it's fine.”

“Do ya trust me?”

_Yes._

Beth took the rag from him and he slowly turned his back to her. She started on the top of his neck and worked her way down, over his shoulders and down his spine, stopping somewhere on his lower back. When she finished she draped the rag back over the side of the tub.

“There. Now that wasn't so hard was it?” she asked.

He grunted and leaned back against the wall of the tub. She sat next to him and wrapped her arms around his middle, nuzzling her head on his shoulder under his chin. Her tits pressed into the side of his ribs.

“No, guess it wasn't,” he sighed into her hair.

They stayed like that for awhile longer, until the water started to get cold. Beth had nodded off. He gently untangled himself from her and climbed out. He dried off as fast as he could and changed into the black sweatpants he had come to like wearing in bed and one of the t-shirts from the wardrobe. Then he shook Beth awake. She blinked at him confusedly and rubbed her eyes sleepily before climbing out of the tub. He wrapped a towel around her shoulders. She dried herself off and peeled off the bikini bottoms, not even caring that he was standing right there. Didn't even ask him to turn around. Was she really tired or did she just not care anymore if he saw her naked?

She was really tired, he decided as she wobbled on her feet as she stepped into her panties. He tossed her the pink nightgown and she pulled it over her head and turned it around a couple times, trying to figure out which side was the front. He picked her up in the same way he carried her up the cabin steps and carried her to bed. She was too tired to protest.

Hell, he was tired as fuck too. He put Beth down in the bed and blew out the candles. He didn't think about it, feel guilty, or care when he slid under the quilt with her. Maybe it was because he was exhausted. Maybe it was because he had decided this was ok, that they were ok. He draped his arm over her waist and pulled her body against his. He felt her relax and fall back against his chest. The scent of lavender was lulling him to sleep.

Daryl was sitting at a little table in a dark room, drinking a beer. There was a stage a few feet away. He could just make out the silhouette of some woman dancing on it. In the chair next to him, Merle was catcalling and jeering. Daryl took a swig of his beer and stared at the stage apathetically. The music had stopped and the silhouette of a woman was scraping up dollar bills off the stage and bouncing away through a black curtain at the back of the stage.

The lights in the room went out. The music was starting again, something sexy that had a sad undertone to it. Somewhere, some guy with a microphone announced the next dancer as, “Pandora, the youngest of the Seven Sisters.” Daryl's heartbeat was ramping up inside his head.

Seven sisters? It sounded so familiar. Then he remembered this place had some gimmick about calling their seven highest earning dancers the Seven Sisters. Outside the door, beneath the garish glow of a neon sign, seven light boxes blinked the images of seven scantly dressed women into the dark street where the rain was falling in heavy sheets. Daryl tried to pull the names of the other six from the dark void in his brain, but it was useless. Didn't matter anyway, he supposed.

Merle liked one of the other six. Hell, Merle liked them all, but his favorite was a blue-eyed, blonde with big tits. She was called Eve, but that wasn't her real name and Merle referred to her as Sugar Tits. Merle also spent a lot of time eyeing one of the other sisters, a young black woman with defined abs and slightly smaller, perky breasts. She went by the name of Leda, Daryl thought, but Merle called her his Nubian Queen. Of course Merle would never show any interest in her out in the open, but he would pay to go into one of the private rooms with her if he had the money.

Daryl heard the click of heels echoing through an empty hallway. The lights came back on over the stage. She was leaning against the silver pole in center of the stage. She was wearing a tiny bikini that barely covered her tits and ass. The bikini didn't seem to be made out of fabric. It was made out of the night sky and the stars. It seemed like it was part of her, the way it moved with her and clung to her pale skin. She had a scar on her chest that ran from her right shoulder down to her left breast. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail with a braid woven into the side.

The pounding bass of the music that beat in time with the strobes faded away. Daryl was standing alone at the edge of the stage. He could hear singing. He knew somehow it was her singing even though her lips weren't moving.

_Look at you smoking in them neon lights_

_Under the thunder, yo, you look so nice_

_Made me wonder how you spend them nights_

_Me, I spend them looking for men I might like_

_Like you, like you, like you_

Skeletal hands covered in sallow colored rotting flesh reached for her hair as she arched her back and tipped her head back towards the edge of the stage. Walkers were grouped around the stage on either side of him, hungry, growling, teeth gnashing, fingers grasping. Their hands were all over her thighs, her stomach, her ass, her breasts as she crawled around the edge of the stage, dancing for them. She didn't seem to notice their touches. Her eyes were either closed or focused on Daryl.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. She leaned over the edge of the stage. He could feel her warm breath on his cheek. She smelled like cherry candy. His hand brushed over the soft flesh of her breast as he tucked the dollar in her bra. She was watching him hungrily and sucking on a damn lollipop.

_More._

He took out another dollar and stuck it in the thin band on the side of her thong.

_More._

He repeated this over and over until his wallet was empty. The song ended and she was gone.

Daryl sat back down next to Merle and resumed drinking his beer. Merle had Eve in his lap. She was wearing a pair of black studded panties and black sequined pasties and Merle kept trying to squeeze her tits. He has having the same old conversation with her, trying to see how much money it would take to get her to have sex with him. She wasn't it having it though. She never was and Daryl knew she never would. He could tell Eve had no interest in his brother outside of the club. Besides, she was too smart for that. She was going to school to be some kind of lawyer, Daryl thought.

Daryl watched as Eve laughed at something Merle said and bounced on his lap. Merle was grinning and looked extremely pleased with whatever he had said to her. He felt a pang of sadness watching them. There was something beautifully tragic about the scene, but he couldn't put his finger on it. He felt it, but his brain wouldn't tell him why. Daryl went back to drinking his beer.

His eyes drifted over the room. Another girl was on stage now, but he didn't care to watch. Pandora had remerged from backstage and was flirting with some guy who looked vaguely familiar. He had a tan cop uniform on and looked like he hadn't shaved in a few days. He smiled at something she said and Daryl felt a surge of jealousy.

“Uh oh, looks like your brother's in love,” Eve laughed.

“Yeah, he's got the hots for your sister. What does she call herself again? Pandora?” Merle asked, “Hey baby, come over here,” he called across the room.

Pandora looked up and smiled at Daryl. She excused herself to the man she was talking to and crossed the room, swaying in her heels.

“Be nice, Merle. She's only been working here a few months and she's _young_ ,” Eve warned.

“I know, sugar tits. I bought a few dances from her before. She's good,” Merle laughed.

Pandora was now standing in front of their table.

“Have a seat, sugar,” Merle told her, nodding at Daryl.

She sat down across Daryl's thighs.

“I saw ya watchin' me when I was up there. Glad to see ya back again,” she whispered in his ear.

_Again?_

Daryl put his hand on her hip. Her skin felt so familiar. What she said must have been true. Merle was digging in his wallet and pulling out a stack of bills, probably their whole month's rent.

“It's almost my brother's birthday, sweetheart, why don't you take him to one of those private rooms and make him happy?” Merle suggested.

Pandora leaned forward over the table and Merle tucked the wad of cash into her bikini top. She stood up and pulled Daryl to his feet, leading him to the back of the room, past the cop who looked at him with a mixture of familiarity and jealousy. He shot one last glance back at Merle. A spotlight was shining on him and Eve. He was still bouncing her on his lap, his head was thrown back laughing at something she had said. Daryl couldn't remember ever seeing him look happier. The light went out and Merle and Eve were swallowed by the darkness and pounding music that once again vibrated through the speakers.

Daryl was alone in one of the private rooms. It was dark and the circular room was covered with mirrors and ringed with a dingy velvet couch. In the center of the room was a small table with a silver pole.

The beaded curtain jingled as she stepped through it. His heartbeat was speeding up again. All the blood in his body was quickly rushing south at the sight of her. She had taken her top off and was completely naked except for the little thong. She had a lollipop dangling from her red lips. Daryl was already hard and she hadn't even started dancing yet.

“Hey. What do ya want tonight? Same as last time?” she asked him.

He nodded slowly. She climbed up on on the table and danced around the pole a few times, all while sucking on that lollipop. He watched her, enjoying the view from every angle thanks to the mirrors. After a bit, she sat down on the table and hopped down. She climbed onto the couch, spread her legs and put a knee on either side of his thighs, rocking her hips dangerously close to his erection. He wanted her so badly. He never had this reaction to any of the girls before. His eyes moved up her flat stomach and over her small perky tits, up to the long thin scar.

“Where'd ya get that scar?”

“You don't remember? You were there.”

“Nah. Can't say I do.”

“Well some asshole cop gave it to me.”

“Got a few of those myself.”

“But not all of yours are from the cops. Your dad gave ya most of 'em, right?”

“Wait—how do ya know that?”

“I know _you,_ Daryl.”

“What's your real name?”

She stopped dancing and sat down on his lap. His dick throbbed against the heat of her through his jeans.

“Beth. It's Beth. You know this. We've known each other forever. Like a hundred years, Daryl,” she sighed.

“What are you doin' here? What are _we_ doin' here?”

“You come here all the time with Merle. Remember? He drags you here because he thinks you don't have enough interest in pussy and well because he really likes pussy and tits and everything that comes along with it, soft skin, full lips, blonde hair, and blue eyes. I'm here working my way through school. My parents won't help me pay for it since I'm not goin' to school to be vet.”

“You're goin' to school to be a singer. But ya don't need to.”

He had told her that before. Beth sighed again.

“I do need to and you and your brother and that sheriff are helpin' put me through college.”

“Sheriff?”

“Ya know, Rick. Rick Grimes, the one I was talkin' to before your brother called me over. He came in one night with that other cop, Shane. Ever since then he's been back a couple times a week. Pays me good money just to have me sit in his lap and listen to the problems he's havin' with his wife.”

“Lori? Does she know about this?”

“Nope,” Beth said, leaning in to whisper in his ear, “Ya know what I think? I think she's too busy fuckin' his best friend, Shane.”

None of this seemed right, but somehow made perfect sense at the same time. An image of Rick in his cop uniform sitting where he was sitting now flashed in his mind and he felt a twinge of jealousy.

Beth pushed her hips down into his. She wrapped her arms around the back of his neck and rocked back and forth grinding against his erection. The pressure and the heat of her felt so fucking good. Her tits were in his face, all he could smell was her, all lavender and vanilla soap and that cherry sucker. His hands were on her ass. She started off slow, but ramped up the speed and pressure when he started moaning her name—her real name, not that silly stage name, into her chest and bucking his hips up into hers, moving in time with her. She wouldn't let up. He knew she wouldn't, not until he came in his pants. He was so fucking close. It felt like heaven. She was heaven.

Daryl woke up before he could orgasm. He was wound up tightly and still hard from the dream. Images of Beth flashed through his mind relentlessly. His body felt like it was on fire. His head was spinning and he felt nauseous. At least he hadn't woke Beth this time. She was still sound asleep next to him. She was curled up facing the window. Her nightgown had ridden up again and he could just make out the perfect curve of her ass in the darkness.

He tried to focus his mind on something other than Beth and the throbbing in his pants, but he was too far gone. As carefully as he could, he slid his arm out from an under Beth's neck. She muttered something sleepily and tugged on the quilt. Daryl stumbled to the bathroom and shut the door quietly. He took off the sweatpants and slumped down in front of the door, pressing his back against it to make sure Beth couldn't open it. He pulled down the waistband of his boxers and started to stroke himself.

He couldn't remember the last time he had jerked off, but he had been dying to ever since earlier that day in the gas station. That damn sucker, lollipop, whatever the fuck it was. He could see Beth on that stage in that skimpy dress singing, stabbing that walker in the head with her stiletto. He could see her in the bath tonight when she grabbed his hands and put them on her tits. He remembered the way they felt against his palms. He could see her in that thong grinding on his lap with her tits in his face. His free hand curled around the hem of his t-shirt and he yanked it up so he wouldn't get cum on it. He was so fucking close now. He could see her slumped over on the floor with her pants off rubbing herself, sliding her fingers into her cunt until she came and made that cute little gasp.

Daryl felt the first few drops hit his lower abdomen, sticky, hot, wet, and it kept coming, so much of it. He guessed there was so much partly because of her and partly because it had been so long since he had masturbated. He wiped his hand off on his boxers and fell back against the door, panting. Something warm moved on the other side of the door and someone was panting along with him.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics in this chapter are from "Queen of the Gas Station" by Lana Del Rey.


	22. Twenty Two

“Beth?” his breath came in heavy pants from the other side of the door.

She was breathing hard too. She slid her wet sticky fingers through the gap under the door and groped around until she found his sticky sweaty hand where it rested on the cold wooden floor.

Beth didn't say anything. She didn't have to. She had been awake for awhile now, listening to him moan her name in his sleep and rub his erection against her ass. When he woke up and went into the bathroom, she guessed that's what he was going to do. She was wet too. It had been over a week since she had touched herself at the treehouse and all the rubbing in bed and him touching her breasts earlier in the bath and everything else that had happened that day had Beth all worked up. Hearing him jerking off just inside the bathroom door was too much.

She had taken off her panties and pulled up the nightgown and leaned against the door, rubbing little circles over her clit while she listened to him try to stifle his moans. She thought about him tearing her shirt open and biting her like he did in her dream once, thought about the way he was staring at her while she was eating that sucker and when he helped her down from the stage, thought about what it would have felt like to climb into his lap and roll her hips over him while he sat at the bar, thought about what he would look like with her red lipstick all over his mouth. She came just before he did.

He let go of her hand and she could hear him moving around behind the door. She almost fell backwards when he opened the door. They looked at each other guiltily. Daryl offered her his hand and pulled her to her feet.

“Beth, I'm sorry,” he mumbled, avoiding looking at her.

“There's nothin' to be sorry for.”

“There is and you know it. We shouldn't be doing this.”

“We can't help it.”

“We can.”

_If we could, it wouldn't have gone this far already._

“I'll sleep on the couch tonight,” he sighed.

“Suit yourself,” she said flatly.

She got back into bed and pulled the quilt over her head. She didn't want to argue with him. She could only hope he would come around in time. She didn't want to make him feel worse about jerking off than he already did. Beth figured it was a lot for him, the bath, taking off his shirt in front of her, letting her see his back, his scars. Even though she couldn't really see much in the dark bathroom.

Beth heard the crinkling of his pack of cigarettes and the sound of the door being unbarred. She considered following him, but decided against it. She hugged the pillow and brought her knees up to her chest. The room had cooled down since earlier when the wood stove was burning and the heat from masturbating had left her body. She was going to wait for him to come back inside, but she ended up falling back to sleep.

The bear was with her again, the huge brown one with gray-blue eyes that was somehow Daryl. No words passed between them. They communicated with touches and glances when they needed to. Words had become trivial, useless things, like money, jewelry, and red nail polish. Words were a burden that could no longer be shouldered. They had no place in this world that was just sky, trees, and the dead. A pang of sadness shot through Beth. The bear snorted and turned his head to look up at her. His breath turned to mist in the cold night air. Beth shivered. Her hand went to her heart where the strap of Daryl's crossbow cut across her breasts, warm against her skin. She felt the weight of it shift on her back and it throbbed with a familiar heartbeat.

They were looking for people, for their family. Their names drummed in her brain in time with her steps, Rick, Maggie, Glenn, Carl, Michonne, Judith, Tyreese, Sasha, repeating on an endless loop, to the melody of an endless longing.

They walked on. The stars turned overhead. She knew all the constellations by heart because he had taught her on some distant day. The sun rose in the morning and set in the late afternoon, turning the world to fire for an hour each time. The seasons came and went. Rain fell, soaking the leaves and grass and making the forest smell fresh and vibrantly green. Sometimes a dry wind blew, rattling the milkweed seeds in their pods. Birds hatched, sung, nested, sung, and died in the world above their heads. The trees and flowers budded, bloomed, turned brown, and crunched under their feet. Sometimes she walked beside the bear with her fingers curled in the thick, coarse fur on the nape of his neck. Sometimes she rode on his back, her body swaying with in time with his gait. Either way, they only stopped to eat and sleep for a few hours each day.

They hunted together. She shot deer and rabbits with the crossbow. She could load it herself. She drew the strength to do so from the bear. She could feel herself siphoning it off of him every time she pulled back the bowstring. Her aim was always true and she shot without thinking. It was like breathing. The bear hunted too and sometimes he would leave for a bit and then return dragging a deer carcass. They would sit together in the leaves and tear into the flesh, eating the meat raw because she couldn't remember how to make a fire and because it didn't matter anymore.

They kept to the forest. Outside the border of the treeline, the world was mad. Fields and houses burned and the sky was always black. The world outside the trees was for the dead. The bear shied at the smell of charcoal and rotting flesh and so did she. She was never afraid, though, because he was always with her. They were always together and she felt deep down they always would be because that's the way it had always been.

At night, they curled up for a few hours under the trees. That was the only time Beth would open up her mouth to use words, not speaking, but singing. She would sing some song from long ago, before the dead walked, before the fields burned, before they lost their family. She wasn't sure how much time had passed since then. It could have been a few months or it could have been a hundred years. Time was a bottomless pit here and she had no way to measure just how far they had fallen or how much further they had to go before they reached—what? She would sing until the bear's eyes drifted closed, until his breathing became a slow gentle rhythm against the back of her neck.

When she woke up, she was still facing the window. Sunlight was squeezing its way through the tiny gaps in the boards. Something warm and heavy rested against her stomach and she could feel breath between her shoulder blades through the fabric of her nightgown, hot and moist. For a moment she thought she was still out there, curled up in the leaves with the bear's wet breaths at her back and his huge furry paw draped protectively over her waist.

No, she wasn't still out there. The morning light had turned forest into cabin, grass into a cottony mattress, and beast into man. The curve of Daryl's crossbow winked at her from where it hung on the handle of the wardrobe. Daryl stirred behind her, rubbing the tip of his nose between her shoulder blades. His fingers flexed and then relaxed where they rested over her stomach.

_He came back and not to the couch either._

The thought coupled with her dream made her smile, it created ripples of relief and hopefulness throughout her body. They were going to be ok, she and Daryl. They could figure this out. They had made it this far, just the two of them. They had each other's backs. A million bad things could have happened since they escaped the prison. Gorman could have taken her, they could have been ripped apart by walkers that night they hid in the trunk of a car, could have been lost forever in that deep forest, but those things hadn't happened. They had figured things out, made it work, worked together, survived together.

Like in her dream, she knew it didn't matter if they walked the forests of the earth forever, never running into another living person again. They would be alright. There was a strong foundation of trust there and little by little they were building on it. It was probably harder for Daryl than it was for her. She was used to giving people the benefit of the doubt. She was used to being open, because no one had ever really hurt her as a result. She was used to having hope, because in the end, things usually worked out for her.

Beth sucked in a breath and wriggled towards the window, allowing his hand to gently slide off of her. She turned to face him. She reached out and smoothed the hair away from his eyes. He looked almost peaceful. She didn't think he was dreaming, but something was still troubling him. His t-shirt had ridden up exposing the skin above the waistband of his pants. She could see the tip of a raised grayish line peeking out from the hem of his shirt, a little to the left of his bellybutton. A helpless sort of pain ran through her. Her eyes went back to his face. He was awake now, watching her, his eyes heavy with sleep. It was the same look the bear had regarded her with in the dream.

They didn't need to say anything, she decided. This was enough. And, as if he agreed with her, he hooked his arm around her hips and pulled himself towards her until his forehead was pressed against hers. She could smell the tobacco on his breath. He closed his eyes again and his breathing slowed. She could tell he had fallen back to sleep.

Beth licked her lips. She held her breath and pushed the loose strands of hair out of her face. She closed the short distance between them by pressing her lips to the corner of his. His face was half buried in the pillow so she kissed what she could reach. She pulled away and let her head drop back onto the pillow. She lay there for awhile longer until he opened his eyes again.

“Ya hungry?” she asked.

He nodded into the pillow. She rolled out of bed, shivering at the sudden rush of cold air against her skin. She got the wood stove going and stood there for a few minutes, rubbing her legs together and hopping up and down, trying to get warm. She heated up the can of corned beef hash. Behind her, she could hear Daryl changing into his jeans and a button down shirt. She kept her eyes focused on her cooking and waited a few long minutes before she shot him a smile over her shoulder.

After breakfast, she dressed as quickly as possible in the small bathroom. Beth stepped into her boots and slung Daryl's crossbow over her shoulder. A restlessness had been growing in her ever since she woke up from the dream. She wanted to be out there with Daryl again. It didn't matter if they were looking for tracks or for signs of their group or hunting or killing walkers or just practicing shooting the crossbow.

Daryl nodded at her and picked up one of the maps and their canteen. He locked the padlock behind them. They headed north—the direction they usually took walks in. She pushed through the branches, sure of herself and where she was going. Daryl had fallen behind, but she could hear him moving quietly through the leaves behind her.

Twigs snapped and branches cracked and a walker was rushing at her from the side. She raised the crossbow, but her hands were shaking. The arrow pierced the walker's neck and it kept coming. She tried to hold the bow in one hand and fumble for her knife with the other. The walker's hands became tangled on the bow and the weight of it slamming into her knocked her onto her back. Daryl was calling her name now. She could hear his footsteps pounding through the leaves. Her fingers groped for the hilt of her knife. The only thing that separated her from the walker's teeth was the crossbow. Her fingers brushed the bone hilt. She pulled it free and brought it up hard against the side of the walker's head. It slumped over dead, pinning her to the ground.

“Beth! Jesus Beth! What the hell happened?” Daryl yelled. He rolled the dead walker off her and held out a hand to help her up.

She refused it and climbed to her feet by herself. Her chest was throbbing. She was probably going to have a few bruises where the crossbow had pressed into her ribs.

“I suck at aiming, that's what.”

She felt stupid, careless. She wasn't the woman in her dream who could aim like it was nothing, like it was breathing.

“Nah. You jus' need more practice. Don't feel bad. Remember how bad Andrea was when she first started shootin'? Couldn't even hit me the day I found Sophia's doll and I was half out of it, could barely even walk.”

“But she did hit you.”

“Yeah, but she didn't kill me. Jus' like you didn't kill this bastard.”

“I did kill him though.”

“And that's all that matters. C'mon.”

He held out his hand for his crossbow. Adrenaline was still pumping through her veins from the fight. Beth bit her lip and threw the crossbow over her shoulder.

“If ya want it back you're gonna have to catch me again,” she told him.

Before he could process her words, she was bounding away through the trees, the crossbow bouncing against her back.

“Hey! Get back here!” he called after her.

Beth giggled to herself. She sprinted ahead to give herself an even bigger lead. She could hear Daryl behind her crashing through branches and dead leaves, swearing in between heavy breaths. The burning in her legs felt good, felt like something she needed. She ran on past the old birch tree that was all covered in poison ivy, the one they usually turned back at on their walks. She slowed her pace a bit to keep herself from getting winded and because this part of the forest was unfamiliar to her.

The trees thinned out and the sky opened up into a meadow. She could no longer ignore the throbbing in her ankle so she stopped. Little yellow flowers were growing all throughout the tall grass. Birds sang in the trees and darted overhead. Everything was still green, but it smelled like fall. The scent of rotting wood and dried out leaves hung in the air. Beth set the crossbow down in the grass. She reached down and plucked a few of the little yellow flowers. Their stems broke off in her hands with quiet snaps. She couldn't hear the sound of Daryl's footsteps crashing through the forest anymore. She could sense his eyes on her back though, hiding in the treeline, deciding if he should show himself or not.

_Come out. I know you're there._

Strong arms wrapped around her from behind, pinning her arms and causing her to drop the flowers she was holding.

“Caught ya,” he breathed in her ear.

“Maybe I let ya catch me.”

They both shivered. The morning was cold, but it had nothing to do with that. The words felt like deja vu and she knew he felt it too. He loosened his grip on her and she turned around to face him. The tip of his nose brushed hers. She could feel the familiar electricity between them, feel herself being drawn like a magnet to him, like light into a black hole.

Just before her lips could touch his, he knelt down and picked up the flowers she had dropped. He gave her back all but one, which he tucked behind her ear. She picked up the crossbow from where it rested next to her feet and held it out for him. He moved in closer and wrapped his fingers around it, overlapping her own. She could feel his pulse racing. Hers was too. He stared at her expectantly, waiting for her to close the gap. Her eyelids fluttered closed. She stood on tip-toe, leaning in over the crossbow. Her lips found his and she pressed the most delicate, chaste, whisper of a kiss she could manage on his. His lips moved against hers, slow, reluctant, but following her lead. She didn't deepen the kiss and he didn't attempt to either. Warmth traveled from her lips, down her throat, down into her chest where it knotted around her heart and radiated outward through every inch of her body. The world around them carried on, moving to its own tempo, one that was much quicker than the one she and Daryl were dancing to. The breeze brushed across her cheek. Somewhere in the distance a lone bird chirped, a sharp, joyful, hopeful sound. Seconds felt like hours and she found that the world, maybe even time itself, was slowing itself to match their tempo.

A twinge of pain shot through her ankle and she lowered herself so her feet were planted flat on the ground. Daryl must have seen the pain flash across her face because he told her sit down. He pulled her foot into his lap and took off her boot and sock.

“Shouldn't of run like that,” he sighed.

He massaged the skin around her ankle, rubbing little circles with his fingers. The pain was already easing up.

“Shouldn't of chased me,” she teased back.

Daryl grunted. Beth laid back in the grass, her foot still in his lap while he kept massaging. They both knew she didn't mean it. She wanted him to chase her and he wanted to. She knew she would chase him too. She already had, in a different way. And she would chase him until he was fine with having his shirt off in front of her.

She had the flowers laid out on her chest. The little yellow petals tickled the skin above her breasts where the neckline of her tank top left it exposed.

“Ya got that look again,” he said.

“What look?”

“That one ya get when you're thinkin'. Ya were thinkin' earlier too. That's part of why ya missed your shot,” he said. His voice sounded nervous, worried.

“I was thinkin' about my dream earlier.”

“Yeah?”

“You were there. We were together, out here. We just walked and walked forever. We were looking for our group, but I don't think we were ever gonna find them. I had your crossbow and I was a good shot. The best. I never missed.”

“If you had my crossbow what did I have?”

“Nothin'. Claws and teeth, I suppose. You were a bear.”

“Sounds like a nightmare. Weren't ya afraid of me?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Cause it was you, Daryl. I trust you. I _know_ you.”

He grunted again at that.

“Do ya think we'll find them?” he asked.

Beth hesitated. Doubt was growing in her belly. In the dream it felt like they were never going to find them. It felt like she and Daryl were alone together, forever, but it wasn't a bad feeling.

“I do,” she decided.

“And if we don't?”

“Maybe it won't be so bad. We've come this far just the two of us.”

Daryl didn't say anything, just nodded slightly. That was enough for Beth. She twisted a few blades of grass in her fingers. They were dry and brittle from the autumn wind. She wondered what Daryl had been dreaming last night before he woke up and went into the bathroom. She didn't ask. She wouldn't. If he wanted to tell her, he would in his own time. She didn't need to ask if he was still having weird dreams. She knew that he was, because she was.

“I know you. That's what ya said in my dream,” he said finally.

She twisted the blades of grass until they broke off in her hand.

“Ya said we've known each other for like a hundred years,” he paused. He was staring off at the treeline now, “Ya said you knew how I got my scars.”

Beth weighed his words carefully. Rearranging them in her head, carrying the ones and dividing them and multiplying them, adding the like variables, as if they were a math equation. She was trying to come up with the precise solution, lest the everything between them be crumpled up like a piece of paper, forcing them to have to start over from square one.

Beth knew the answer to how Daryl had gotten his scars. It wasn't that hard to figure out. She had pieced it together long ago, at the prison, maybe at the farm, maybe she always knew. She opened her hand and let the torn pieces of grass drift down to the dirt. A thin pink-white raised line peeked around the side of her wrist at her. She turned her wrist to look at the whole scar. Her bracelets had fallen off somewhere. She wasn't sure when or where, maybe that night Gorman tried to take her, maybe at that lake or in that haunted forest, maybe the day they fled the prison. She couldn't be sure, but she hadn't thought about it until just now. The bracelets were silly, she decided. What's the point of hiding something everyone already knows about?

_I wasn't hiding it from them. I was hiding it from myself. So I didn't have to talk about it. So I didn't have to think about it._

The scar wasn't hidden anymore. The pink line stared back at her, a little half-moon smile on the inside of her wrist, a wink to an emotional landfill. Without thinking, she brushed her thumb across it, as if she could make it disappear. She sighed and let her hand flop down onto her chest where it touched against the scar Gorman had given her. That one felt different, a battle scar, but really, both scars were battle scars.

_Physical battle, emotional battle, or somewhere in between, did it really matter in the end? No._

Daryl was still watching her, waiting patiently for her to say something, to explain herself.

“From your dad,” she said quietly.

He nodded slowly, confirming what she already knew to be fact. Wind rustled the tall grass and made the leaves shudder in the trees. A few of them broke free and drifted to the ground. Her foot was getting cold now that his hands were no longer massaging her ankle. She curled her toes into his thigh, trying to warm them.

“Well?” he asked. He picked at the hem of her jeans where it clung to her ankle.

Well what? Beth groped around trying to feel out the right thing to do or to say. She knew what he didn't want—pity, comfort, an apology for something she had no control over, for something he had no control over. She knew _him._

“Well? It doesn't matter, does it? You've got to stay who you are, not who you were.”

That felt right, not quite perfectly so, but enough. The wind had stilled and for a second nothing in the world moved.

_Need ya to keep reminding me sometimes._

Beth wasn't sure if he had actually said that or if she had thought it.

“I will. I know what I said before, but you can rely on me—for anything.”

_For everything, if ya need to._

She reached for his crossbow where it lay near her hips. She toyed with the strap. She could feel his eyes on her again. He pulled her sock on and her boot and then let her foot fall back into his lap.

“Yeah. Same goes for you,” he mumbled.

Daryl stood up, towering over her where she still lay in the grass. He reached a hand down for her and held it there. She nodded at him slowly and put her hand in his and allowed him to pull her to her feet. He picked up his crossbow and draped it over her shoulders so the strap lay across her scar.

“Do ya wanna go back now?” she asked, knowing what his answer would be.

“Nah, not yet. C'mon.”

They crossed the meadow, back into the treeline, still heading north. Beth found some tracks, from a walker she guessed, and they followed them for awhile until they found it. They stayed hidden behind a couple of trees while Daryl loaded the crossbow for her. He put the bow in her arms and she raised it to eye level. He came up behind her and put both his hands on her ribs. The walker had seen them by now and was running towards them. The same fear from earlier that morning struck her again and she trembled. Daryl's grip tightened on her and she could hear him breathing slow and steady in her ear.

_He's not afraid. He trusts me._

She steadied herself. Her finger found the trigger and she squeezed it. The arrow struck the walker through its eye and it went down. Daryl held her there a minute longer until she lowered the bow. He patted her back and gave a satisfied grunt. He pulled the arrow out and wiped it on his jeans.

They kept walking north after checking the map again. It looked like nothing but forest for miles. Sometimes she curled her fingers around his palm, sometimes he put an arm around her waist, sometimes he carried her on his back and her body bounced along to his steps. They walked on all afternoon into the evening. She had no way of telling how far they had gone from the cabin, but it was unlikely they'd make it back before dark. All the while, they scanned the ground for tracks, for any sign that Rick or Maggie or anyone from their group had been in the area. They found nothing.

Eventually they came to a set of railroad tracks that ran east and west. To the west they could see smoke rising and smell something that smelled like burning flesh. It was then that Daryl nodded at her and said they should go back. They retraced their steps as the sun set, bathing the forest in an unearthly red-orange glow that felt almost magical. The beauty was short lived though and darkness soon fell upon the woods. Beth had given Daryl back his crossbow and he led the way, pulling her along behind him. She could barely see anything, but somehow he could find their tracks and follow them back.

By the time they reached the meadow, the stars were out. Daryl sat down in the grass and took out a cigarette. Beth was yawning and her muscles ached from walking all day.

“C'mon, sleep for a few hours. I'll keep watch,” Daryl offered.

“Nah, we should get back.”

“It'll still be there in the mornin'.”

Beth was too tired to argue. She put her head in his lap and looked up at him. The moonlight and smoke softened his features. She tried to find the constellation of Orion, remembering the night at the moonshine shack when Daryl pointed it out. He took a long drag on the cigarette. He was looking down at her, watching her curiously.

“I found it—Orion,” she said, pointing at a cluster of stars.

“Is that the only one ya know?”

“Well I know that one's the little dipper and that one's the big dipper,” she told him, moving her hand to point out each one.

Daryl moved her hand and pointed out a few more constellations, the two bears, Ursa Major and Ursa Minor, Andromeda, and Draco.

“How can ya find 'em when you're lookin' at me?” she asked.

“Don't need to look up to see 'em.”

_Oh._

The realization hit her and stomach fluttered. He was watching the reflection of the night sky as it ghosted across the glossy surface of her eyes. She let her eyes glide over the stars for a bit longer until they felt dry and she closed them.

Beth didn't remember falling asleep. Sometime later, Daryl was gently shaking her awake. The stars looked different from when she fell asleep. Daryl was smoking again. Her head was still in his lap. She thought she could see the faint light of dawn to the east. How long was she asleep for?

“What time is it?” she asked without thinking.

“Dunno. Maybe almost mornin'.”

“You coulda woke me sooner.”

“Nah, you were sleepin' good.”

“How could ya tell?”

“Didn't have that look ya get when you're dreamin'.”

“So now I have a look when I'm thinkin' and a look when I'm dreamin'?”

“Doesn't everyone?” he shrugged.

“I guess you're right,”

“You can tell when I'm dreamin', right?”

She nodded. “Ya say my name a lot when you're dreamin'.”

“Ya say my name a lot in your sleep too.”

“Cause you're always there now.”

“So are you.”

They sat there in silence for a few minutes. She watched him as he brought the cigarette back to his lips and pulled it away again.

“You said my name last night and ya had that look like you were dreaming,” she said quietly, breaking their silence.

He looked away and took another long drag on the cigarette. The smoke rolled out across the dark sky. His eyes darted back and forth and she could tell his brain was working out whether he should offer up the information or not.

“Yeah. I was dreamin' about ya.”

“Good?”

“Kinda. But weird. Keep havin' these dreams where I meet ya before the turn.”

Beth watched him, waiting for him to go on.

“But it's not really like a meetin'. I have this feelin' I know ya. But I can't remember your name or how we met, but I can feel it. And when I look at you--”

“You know I can feel it too?”

“Yeah. Each dream is like a scene from a different life or a scene from the past maybe, but the feelin' is always the same.”

“What life was the dream from last night?”

She could see his face reddening. She decided she wouldn't push it any further. She stood up and brushed the grass off her pants. Daryl offered to carry her on his back and she jumped up. Her hands fisted in the front of his shirt and the swaying of his steps was causing her to drift in and out of sleep. She could smell the smoky scent of him and hear his heart beating in time with his steps.

“My dream last night, I was at a strip club with Merle. You were workin' there. Tryin' to pay for school. You were goin' by a stage name—Pandora. Hmpf, ya said Rick was one of your best customers.”

Beth was struggling to process all this in her sleepy brain. She tried to imagine herself in one of those little bikinis that the female corpses were wearing in Shotgun Willie's yesterday. She tried to imagine herself dancing in it for Daryl, for Rick. She felt herself getting wet and an ache growing in her lower abdomen. At the same time she wanted to laugh, especially at the thought of herself dancing for Rick, giving him a lap dance or something. Instead, she sucked in a breath and tried not to think about it too much. It was perfectly natural that he would have such a dream after their run yesterday.

“Pandora? Like Pandora's box?”

“Guess so.”

“Is that somethin' you did with Merle a lot? Go to strip clubs?” she asked.

“Nah, not really. Merle liked them. That's just how he was. He'd always try to drag me along. Thought I didn't have enough relationships with women.”

“And?”

“I dunno. He and I were just different in that way. Maybe it's cause he wasn't around much to see all the shit my dad put my mom through.”

He readjusted his hands around her thighs. She stayed quiet, inviting him to continue if he wanted.

“Merle wasn't much of a role model either. The only women he ever brought around were one night stands. That's all he thought women were good for. Merle was always tryin' to throw women at me. Usually whatever friend of the one he wanted to fuck. Never worked out. Never really cared for any of 'em.”

Beth was weighing his words again. He didn't know how to be in a relationship. She didn't have much experience herself. She had only been with Jimmy for a few months and Zach for about the same amount of time. She had better role models, but her dad and her mom were far from perfect and Maggie always told her that their dad didn't love her mom as much as he had loved Maggie's. Whether that was true or not, she didn't know. Her parents seemed like they were in love.

“You're lucky. Your dad was a good man.”

“The best,” she agreed sleepily.

“Yeah. He was a real role model, that man.”

“I think he would be glad I'm out here with you.”

“I think he would be happier that ya can take care of yourself.”

“I think he'd be glad I'm not out here alone. And I think he'd be glad you're not out here alone.”

He shifted his hands again and she tightened her arms around his shoulders, giving him a squeeze.

_I'm happy I'm not out here alone. I'm happy you're not out here alone. I'm happy we're out here together._

Beth considered saying all this out loud, but instead she let those words drift down somewhere inside of her like broken blades of grass. She nuzzled her face into the curve between his neck and shoulder and tightened her grip on him again. She figured those little gestures and her warm weight against his back, said it better than those words could ever hope to.

The sun was coming up over the horizon. The world was on fire once more. The cabin appeared in front of them. She wriggled against him and he let her slide down his back. He shifted his crossbow and picked her up. She breathed in the smoky, woodsy scent of him as she lay her head on his shoulder. When they got to the top of the stairs, she fished in his vest pocket for the key and unlocked the padlock. He set her down on the arm of the couch and she fell back onto it as she always did.

Beth was dozing again, but she was aware of Daryl moving around by her feet, taking off her boots and socks and checking her ankle. He picked her up again and carried her to the bed. She pulled off the sweater she was wearing and let it drop to the floor next to the bed. With her face half buried in the pillow, she reached around and unhooked her bra, pulling it off without removing her tank top or even opening her eyes. She fumbled with the button on her jeans and wriggled them down over her thighs. Daryl grabbed the denim that was pooled around her ankles and pulled them off the rest of the way.

He fell onto the bed next to her and hooked his arm around her waist, drawing her against his body. He hadn't bothered to change out of his jeans and they rubbed against the delicate skin on the back of her thighs. His face was buried in the back of her neck and she could feel his breath tickling the skin there. He ran a hand from the top of her hip down her thigh, stopping at her knee. He did it so lightly that he was barely touching her. The chill of the night air was gone and Beth relaxed enough to fall fully asleep.

She was sitting in a coffee shop, before the turn. There was a smartphone in her hands. She watched it nervously. Waves of anxiety rolled through her stomach. Her foot tapped the floor impatiently. Every few seconds she shot a glance over her shoulder out the dark window. Outside it was pouring rain and thundering. Maybe that's why he was late.

The bell on the door jingled and someone walked in. She immediately looked over her shoulder. Her stomach sank in disappointment. It wasn't Jimmy. It was a man in ripped jeans and leather vest. His hair was hanging in his eyes and he was dripping wet from head to toe. She knew him. She had seen him around before. But he looked pissed off so she stayed in her seat and took another drink of her coffee.

He dug in his pocket for some change and put it in the pay phone. The change clinked as it fell through the machine. When she looked up again, the man was slamming the handset against the dial repeatedly, so evidently it was broken. The chair scraped against the tiled floor as she stood up.

“Hey,” she said, holding her phone out to him.

He looked at her confusedly for a moment as if he didn't understand what she was offering. Finally, he took the phone from her and thanked her.

He dialed a number and waited, pacing back and forth.

“Merle, you mother fucker! Ya left the bike on empty again!” he screamed into the phone. He hit the end call button and handed the phone back to her.

Beth had decided by this point, that Jimmy had stood her up—again.

“Hey, I'm leaving. Do ya want a ride somewhere?” she asked.

He studied her carefully as if he was trying to place her in space and time. She was sure her own look mirrored his.

“Daryl, right?” she asked.

He nodded slowly.

“C'mon,” she said, wrapping her fingers around his wrist.

The bell rang again as they passed through the door out into the storm. Cold water fell in heavy drops, making her shudder. She found Maggie's car parked near the sidewalk just outside the cafe. She must have borrowed it.

“Where to?” she asked once they were both inside the car and the heat was going.

“Don't suppose you have an empty gas can in the trunk?”

“No, but we have a few at the farm. I can take you there first?”

He nodded and went to light up a cigarette.

The rain was coming down in thick, heavy sheets and was obscuring the windshield. Beth could barely see five feet in front of the car. The farm wasn't far, but it was still stressful as hell driving in that storm. The driveway was washed out and muddy and it was sheer luck that the car didn't get stuck. She parked as close to the house as possible. A bolt of lightening lit up the sky as they ran through the downpour to the front porch.

Her parents and Shawn were away that weekend and it was just her and Maggie in the house.

“Where the hell have you been?! Ya were supposed to be back hours ago!” Maggie yelled as they pushed through the front door dragging mud onto the hardwood floors, “And who the hell is this? I told ya you could go on one date with Jimmy. Not go pick up some random guy at a bar.”

“Relax, we ain't on no date. I just need to get some gas for my bike,” Daryl said, lighting up another cigarette.

Maggie ripped it out of his mouth, “No smokin' in the house. And neither of ya are going anywhere. We're under a tornado warnin' and it's getting bad out there.”

She looked back outside. The sky was pitch black and she could see the blades of the windmill whipping around in the distance. The wind chimes on the porch slammed into each other violently. Maggie was right. Beth looked to Daryl for support. He shrugged and nodded.

“I can wait,” Daryl agreed.

“Good. Take your shoes off and don't touch anythin',” Maggie told him with a glare. She wrapped her arm protectively around Beth's shoulders and ushered them both into the living room. She brought them some towels and Beth went up to her room and changed into something dry. She went into Shawn's room and found a pair of jeans and a t-shirt and brought them to Daryl.

Once they were all changed and dry, the three of them sat on the Victorian style floral couch. Maggie sat in between them. They sat and watched the weather report for what seemed like hours. Finally, Maggie fell asleep and Beth nodded to Daryl for him to follow her.

She crept up the stairs, careful to skip certain ones that creaked. Daryl followed her lead. She led him down the white painted hallway to the distressed looking door that led into her room. She closed and locked the door gently behind them.

“So this is your room, huh?” Daryl said, looking around.

He moved around the room slowly, taking time to examine every little thing, touching every item with his eyes first and then his fingers, as if he was trying to commit every detail to memory.

“Yeah, it's nothin' fancy, but I like it. It feels good, safe.”

“Sorry I never came up here to see ya, after...ya know,” he said, nodding his head towards her wrist.

He set the little brass picture frame that contained a photo of her with her mom at a 4th of July barbeque, back down on the dresser. The whole room seemed to tremble as he did.

The scar on her wrist lit up like it was on fire and she whimpered.

“Still hurts, eh? So do mine sometimes,” he shivered as he spoke the words.

“You've been here before?”

“Yeah, but only the downstairs part of the house and most of the time I was camped out on the edge of your property.” He was fingering through her jewelry box, picking up every bobby pin, every jeweled hair clip, every bracelet, ring, and necklace.

What he said seemed right, although she couldn't remember when this had taken place.

“I feel bad about it. Shoulda come to see ya. My head was jus' so wrapped up with what happened to that little girl. I was out there every damn day lookin' for her and it was all for nothin'.” His voice shook as he spoke.

He held up the final item in the jewelry box, a silver heart shaped locket her dad had given her for her fourteenth birthday. The sight of it made her feel uneasy, sick. His fingers pried it open. The locket suddenly seemed as big as a bulldozer. It filled the room, although it hadn't changed in size physically. She could feel its sharp metal edges digging into something inside her mind. Something that she had tried to bury. Something that had a terrible rotting stench. She could see the shape of its makeshift grave in her mind. The loose dirt that she had so haphazardly placed on top of whatever she had tried to dispose of in that huge hole was being scraped away, little by little, until she was left facing the skeletal grins of three corpses.

“My mom was bitten. She was in that barn too.” The words felt like knives gliding across her tongue, slicing it to bloody ribbons.

_Oh._

Her mom wasn't out of town, neither was Shawn, or her dad. They were dead. Her chest tightened. It was hard to breathe. Waves of nausea rolled through her stomach. Her scar was burning hotter than the fire they had once created at the moonshine shack. The scar was pulsating, pumping jolts of pain down into her hand and up her arm. The feeling was unbearable. Her body crumpled over from it. The sobs she had been trying to choke back fell out and she couldn't stop the flow of them.

“Can't beat yourself up over it. Wasn't your fault. Nothin' ya could do,” he said gently. There was a little snap as he shut the jewelry box. The floorboards creaked as he crossed the room and climbed onto the bed with her.

He held her for a long time as she sobbed into his chest, in her bed, in her quilt, the one her mom had brought back from her honeymoon in Ireland with her dad before Beth was born. The storm still raged outside. The shutters banged against the windows, threatening to break the glass. Downstairs, she could hear walkers growling and bumping against the furniture. Sounded like hundreds of them. Beth sobbed harder. There was nothing they could do to stop it, nothing.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Fixed a few minor typos.


	23. Twenty Three

Daryl had thought Beth's nightmares were getting better. He thought that sleeping in the bed with her was helping. He thought wrong. He woke up with her kicking and whimpering in his arms. He shook her and called her name, but it still took him several minutes to get her to open her eyes and when she did, they were wide with terror and she sounded like she could barely breathe.

“Beth, you're dreamin', girl. Jus' dreaming,” he told her, sitting up in bed and pulling her with him.

His hand fisted in her ponytail and he pushed her face into the space between his neck and shoulder. She was sobbing again like she had the first night after the prison. Her nightmares didn't usually elicit such strong emotions. Sure, she woke up screaming for him sometimes, but she didn't cry, not like _this_ , and she would calm down after a few minutes.

“Mom, Dad, Shawn, Maggie. They're all dead,” she whimpered.

“Maggie's not. We're gonna find her,” he promised.

Guilt and doubt weighed like a rock in his stomach. Maggie was a tough bitch. He was sure she had survived, but it had been weeks now and they hadn't seen a sign of anyone from their group.

Yesterday, they had come to some railroad tracks and at the end of them, smoke was rising. There were likely people there, but Daryl had a bad feeling about it. Didn't smell right. Smelled like burning flesh, but not like the smell of walkers being burned. He wouldn't take Beth that far out again. He hoped that Rick and the others had enough good sense to stay the hell away from that place. Whoever those people were, every instinct in his body was screaming to stay away. Beth was right. There were still good people out there, but those people at the end of the tracks were unlikely to fit that description.

They needed to spend some time fortifying the cabin. Winter was coming and it was getting colder every day. They should try to put up a fence, maybe make some spikes from tree branches to keep walkers away. They still needed to move the majority of the supplies from the abandoned car before someone else stumbled upon it and took them all. Maybe after they moved it all, they could take off the doors and the hood and use them to reinforce the fence. He still hadn't taken Beth up onto the roof, onto the walkway that led to a small balcony on the back of the cabin. That was another place they needed to strengthen because it could be a great defensive point.

Beth was calming down in his arms. He hadn't realized it, but his hands were working on their own while he was lost in thought. One of his hands was still in her hair, massaging her scalp and twisting strands of her hair. He had also managed to pull her into his lap or she had climbed into it. He wasn't sure which or if it even mattered. He felt embarrassed when he saw that his other hand was on her naked thigh and his thumb was pressing circles up and down the soft skin there from her hip down to about mid-thigh. He quickly moved it to a more comfortable position on her back.

“Sorry, Daryl,” she said weakly. Her voice was hoarse from crying, but the tears were stopping.

“Don't be. Ain't nothin' to be sorry for.”

He was curious about what she had been dreaming, but he wasn't going to push her to tell him. He figured, if anything it would be better to get her mind off it. He hooked his arm under her knees and moved her off his lap. His shirt was soaked with her tears so he went to the wardrobe and found a clean t-shirt to put on. He hesitated wondering if he should go into the bathroom to change his shirt or as Merle would say, just suck it up and change in front of her.

“It's ok, Daryl, I'm not lookin',” she said from behind him.

That eased his anxiety slightly, but it was still there.

_Do ya trust me?_

He did. He took off his vest and yanked his shirt over his head. His hands were shaking slightly as he pulled on the clean one, but it was done.

“Can I open my eyes yet?” Beth asked.

“Yeah. Get dressed,” he told her. He scooped her jeans and bra off the floor and tossed them to her.

“Yes, Mr. Dixon.”

“Ain't no use sleepin' when we got work to do.”

He turned his back to her as she stepped into her jeans to keep himself from feeling guilty. It wasn't right for him to watch her dress when he didn't want her watching him dress. Hell, it wasn't right for him to watch her dress at all. Just because he had seen her dress before didn't make it right. He waited until he heard her doing up her belt and then climbed the ladder to the loft.

“C'mon, got something to show ya,” he called down to her.

He offered her his hand when she got to the top of the ladder. Her ankle was bothering her again, too much walking and then taking off running like that yesterday. He shouldn't have chased her, maybe she would have stopped.

Beth was looking around, taking inventory of everything they had in the loft. This was her first time up there. He helped her out through the hatch and led her around to the balcony.

“Wow, it's beautiful up here,” she breathed, leaning over the railing.

Daryl supposed it was a nice view, but not as nice as the view of her ass as she bent over the railing. God, was he turning into Merle? He didn't remember staring at her ass when they were at the farm or even at the prison. Hell, he hadn't noticed anyone else's ass either during that time. No, he wasn't like Merle. Merle would have been drooling over everyone from Carol to Beth, even though he would have never tried to touch Beth until she was eighteen. The thought made him shudder in disgust and yet somehow miss Merle at the same time.

Merle probably would have called him a pussy for not grabbing Beth yesterday and shoving his tongue into her mouth when she placed that sweet little innocent kiss on his lips. Merle would have told him he was broken for feeling so guilty about jerking off. Merle never felt bad about it. He would sit in the living room when he was drunk and jerk off for hours to his massive porn collection and he didn't give a damn if someone was in the room. Whatever, though, Merle didn't know shit.

“Thinking about somethin'?” Beth had turned and was watching him.

He nodded.

“Thought so. Ya got that look. That's your thinkin' face.”

“Thinkin' about Merle.”

“Missin' him?”

“Sorta.”

She was quiet for a few minutes.

“I miss Maggie. I was dreaming about her.”

“Did I call her a bitch again?” He tapped a cigarette out of the pack and stuck it in his mouth.

“Not exactly. I was at a coffee shop and you came in. Merle used all the gas in your bike and you ran out. The payphone was broken so I let ya use my phone to call him.”

“And let me guess, he didn't pick up. Bastard never did.” He flipped open his lighter and lit the cigarette.

She looked down and smiled, “Yeah. So I drove you to the farm to get a gas can, but it was storming so bad when we got there, Maggie refused to let us go out again. She yelled at me for bringing you back there. She thought we were on a date and she didn't like it. She made us sit on the couch watching the weather channel for hours while she sat in between us, bein' a chaperone.”

“Goin' to the gas station. Some date, huh?” he grumbled, taking a quick puff on the cigarette.

“Not exactly romantic, no. Not that I'd know. Only ever been on a few dates. What about you?” her face was turning pink and she shook her head, “Sorry, what am I thinkin'? I'm sure you've been on more than me.”

“No. I haven't,” he said feeling incredibly embarrassed. He was probably close to twice her age and had likely been on about as many dates. Going on dates wasn't really something he understood because it wasn't something Merle had understood and nearly everything he knew about women he had learned from Merle.

“Really?” Her eyes widened and she looked away. Her face soured into a look that made him guess that she regretted her words.

“Really. Merle said that stuff was a waste of time.”

“Maggie was always goin' on dates. Way more than me. She always told me I didn't need to worry about it, that I had all the time in the world.”

Beth tugged at the sleeve of her sweater. Daryl watched her as he inhaled deeply, letting the smoke fill his lungs and the nicotine soothe his nerves. The corners of her lips twitched upwards then back down as her brain and heart worked trying to decide if she should laugh at the irony or cry at the reality. In the end, they settled somewhere in between, but more upturned than down, more happy than sad. That was her. That was Beth.

“Ya still have time,” he said thoughtfully.

And she did. They did. It was the other stuff they were missing, the stuff they used to show on TV--restaurants, theaters, parks, candy, chocolate, and roses--all the stuff Merle laughed at and said was for pussies. And who knows, maybe he had been right, maybe they were better off without all that meaningless crap.

“What are you trying to say?” she asked him.

He shrugged, “You ain't dead yet. There's still time.”

_We're not dead yet._

He ran his fingers over the splintery wooden railing as she stared out over the treetops in silence. His brain was peeling apart her question like an orange and slowly filling in the spaces between her words to piece together what she was really asking. His palms were sweating. He picked at a dry piece of skin on his thumb. Anxiety started to creep in, that same feeling he used to get in school when the teacher would ask him why his homework wasn't done again for the third day in a row or worse yet, ask him why there was a bruise peeking out from the sleeve of his t-shirt. Beth just smiled at him and nodded.

“Anyways,” Beth continued, her face now flushed bright pink, “In my dream, Maggie was pissed I brought you home because she said she gave me permission to go on one date with Jimmy. I guess he was supposed to meet me at that coffee shop, but he stood me up—again.”

“That ever happen? Him standing ya up?”

“Mmmhmm. Maggie said it was because he was sixteen and an idiot,” she said, rolling her eyes. She tugged the sleeve of her sweater down over her scar.

“It happen more than once?”

“A couple of times. He always had an excuse. He forgot. He had to help his dad clean the garage. His truck broke down. One time he said my dad told him to stay away from me. I don't know why I bothered with him.”

Daryl could feel his anxiety boiling over into anger.

“Ya shoulda kicked his ass. Ya coulda took him.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn't strong then. Shawn offered a couple times, but I wouldn't let him.”

He supposed she wouldn't have let him do it either.

“At least I only dated him for a few months.”

He shook his head, “Ya don't deserve that bullshit, not even for one day.”

“Thanks, Daryl.”

She still sounded sad, but Daryl couldn't tell if it was because of that jackass Jimmy or if it was something else she left unsaid.

“So what are we going to do up here?” she asked, examining the railing and frowning at the gaps in between the balusters.

He found himself imagining her sitting out here with him at night, sharing a jar of peaches, talking about the work they still needed to do on that cabin, maybe teaching her some more constellations, maybe kissing her again. His palms were sweating again and the anxiety had returned. It took him a minute to realize Beth was watching him as he picked at a splinter of wood that was sticking up from the railing.

“You're lost again aren't ya?” she giggled, “You thinkin' of reinforcin' and enclosing this with some of the leftover lumber? So we have a sort of sniper tower?”

“Huh? Yeah and we can put a little bit of supplies up here. A couple days worth of food and water, maybe a tarp to keep everything dry. Worst comes to worst we can survive a few days up here.”

“You wanna get that done today?”

“Yeah at least get it started. We need to get the rest of the supplies from the car. There's a plastic sled in the loft. We should be able to fit everything useful in that, but it'll be noisy draggin' it back. You'll have to have my back while I'm pullin' it.”

“I can do that,” she agreed.

“We should get goin'. Daylight's wastin' and there's lots to do.”

They set off. Daryl had the sled under one arm, Beth under his other. She said her ankle was hurting again, but she was walking fine and judging by that little smile she gave him, it was more than that, not that he minded. He liked the sway of her body under his arm and the way her hair tickled his skin.

The car was covered in dust, just like they left it. That made Daryl relieved and kind of sad at the same time. They hadn't seen another living person since Gorman. They condensed all the food into one box and put a few blankets on the top of the box. They took all the medical supplies, a few more bottles of shampoo and soap, and a pack of razors.

Beth helped him sort through the clothes. They didn't really need a lot more since the wardrobes at the cabin were pretty well stocked. Most of the men's clothes fit Daryl alright. Unfortunately, the jeans were too short for him. He could tuck the legs into the top of his boots so it didn't matter too much. He just looked ridiculous when he took his shoes off.

He could tell Beth wasn't excited about the women's clothes. The woman who had owned them was probably Carol's age or older and had a far worse fashion sense. Beth was holding up a few flannel shirts, a red one and a yellow one.

“She must have loved this shirt. She had one in every color,” Beth said, a hint of sadness in her voice.

“Don't worry. I'll help ya cut the sleeves off so ya can show off the muscles in your arms.”

“And jus' who am I showin' off for?” she teased.

They both smiled at that and Beth threw the shirts onto the sled. She picked out a few other things, a couple pairs of jeans that would probably stay up with a belt, a pair of blue cotton pants, and an ugly tan jacket. He caught her holding a few bras up to her chest and found himself wondering if they would fit her. From the pictures, it looked like the woman had a slender build and smaller breasts. The bras weren't like the one Beth had, the only one she had, that little pale pink one with the padding in the cups to make her tits look bigger. The bras in the car were just simple white ones made out of a thin cotton. She blushed and set them back down when she realized he was watching her. He walked over and picked them up and threw them on the sled.

“C'mon. Ya only have one. Would it hurt to have a few more?” he asked.

She looked like she wanted argue but instead she just said, “Dunno if they'll even fit.”

“Well ya can try 'em.”

_Or ya can go without one. Not like I would mind._

“Here. I think these will fit ya,” she said, holding up a pair of white briefs.

“Fuck no,” he laughed.

“C'mon, ya only got one pair of boxers. Wouldn't hurt to have few more pairs of underwear,” she teased, sticking her tongue out at him.

“Ha ha. Ya know you're more like your sister than ya think.”

“Maybe you're more like your brother than ya think.”

“Hmpf. Jus' pick some stuff out for me and I'll wear it,” he grumbled, turning back towards the trees. He raised his crossbow and shot a walker that was making its way to them.

“Pick some clothes out for ya? What am I your wife now?”

Daryl looked back at her. She was still smirking. He didn't say anything. She had won, he decided and turned back to keep a lookout. He kept his head turned towards the trees, but he was watching her out the corner of his eyes. She held up items one at a time and her eyes would dart between the piece of clothing and him. In the end she would smile and nod or scrunch up her face and shake her head. He wondered how she was deciding. Was she picking based on what she thought he'd wear or what she thought would look good on him? In the end, she dumped a small armful of men's clothes onto the sled.

“We should leave a little food here, incase anyone comes across this and really needs somethin'.” Beth said, just as they were getting ready to leave.

He nodded and she removed a few cans of food and a couple bottles of water from the box and left them on the passenger's seat.

The sled was noisy as fuck as he pulled it through the dried leaves and broken branches. It was slow going all the way back. The sled kept get snagged on roots and he kept having to stop to shoot walkers that were drawn by the racket. Beth was helping with her swords, but she could really only take on one at a time with them. They were going to have to work on that. He added it to his mental to-do list.

It was late afternoon when they got back to the cabin and brought their haul inside. Daryl figured there was still plenty of time to start reinforcing the railing on the walk and balcony, board up all the little gaps between the balusters, leaving a few big enough to fit a gun barrel every couple of feet. He took Beth back up on the roof with him and showed her what he wanted done, gave her a hammer, nails, and some boards, and set her to work at one end of the railing and he went to the other end. They would meet in the middle.

He started on the opposite end. It was going slower than he would have liked partly because he couldn't stop himself from glancing over at her every few minutes. She had a nail sticking out of her lips and her brow was scrunched in concentration. She made it look easy and he guessed she had probably grown up helping her dad mend fences around the farm and this wasn't really much different.

After a few hours she had covered the railing all the way down to the corner where it met the balcony.

“Daryl, I'm startin' to think you're trying to make me do all the work,” she sighed wiping sweat off her forehead.

He reached for an excuse, but there was none. He had probably done less than half the work she had in the same amount of time. The sun was going down by that time. The sky was turning a deep indigo and the first stars were starting to come out.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, “I'll make it up to ya.”

“Oh yeah?”

“C'mere,” he said, patting the deck next to him.

She crawled over and sat down, leaning her back against the slant of the roof were it met the wooden decking. He pulled out one of the banana nut granola bars from his vest pocket, tore open the wrapper and snapped it in half. Her hand was already out waiting for it. They had barely eaten all day.

“That's it?” she asked after she had finished her portion.

“Nope,” he told her.

Daryl took the pack of cigarettes out from his vest pocket and tapped out two. He stuck the first one in his mouth then carefully leaned over her and put the other one in between her parted lips. He flipped open his lighter and brought it to her cigarette. Beth's hands came up, gently touching his to shield the flame. The orange-red light danced across her pale face and illuminated her long eyelashes. She kept her eyes down, focused on the flame. He found that his hand was starting to shake a bit as he watched her. She was quickly taking on that unearthly aura again and when she brought her eyes up to meet his, it was like the sunrise. The corners of her lips curved up into a smile and he knew it was because of whatever breathless look he must be giving her.

He brought the light up to his own cigarette and her hands followed his, once again protecting the flame. She was still staring into his eyes and she didn't break the gaze or take her hands away until he flipped the lighter closed and went to tuck it back into his vest pocket. He laid back against the roof next to her. The stars spilled across the black sky, thousands of them, blanketing a world that would probably forever remain devoid of manmade light.

Beth's free hand was in his and he didn't remember if she reached for his or if he had reached for hers. Didn't matter, he supposed. She was still smoking quietly next to him, her eyes turned upwards to the sky. He was kind of surprised she hadn't coughed when she took her first drag tonight. At the gas station, she had been eating that sucker which had to have coated her throat. She was probably being careful. Probably thought he'd make fun of her if she coughed. He might, but he might not. Might be cute in some weird way.

“Which one's the big bear, Ursa Major?” he asked her, deciding to see how much she remembered from their earlier lesson. He also had something in mind if she could remember all the constellations he had taught her, something that made his stomach flutter with anticipation.

“There,” she said, stretching her arm up, the cigarette between her fingers.

“Mmmhmm, good. What about the other bear, the little one?”

“That one,” she moved her hand.

“Yep. What about the dragon?”

She lowered her arm. He could see her eyes darting back and forth. She took another drag on her cigarette and let the smoke roll out.

“There, those stars,” her hand traced the constellation.

“Thought you were gonna mess that one up. One more. If ya get it right, I'll give ya somethin'.”

“Alright, Mr. Dixon,” she agreed. She took another puff and turned her head to look at him. God, she was so fucking gorgeous and he wanted to tell her, but how?

“Andromeda,” he said. He took a few drags on his own cigarette while he waited. He was sure she wouldn't remember this one.

“Those stars over there?” her voice was full of doubt and sure enough she was pointing at the completely wrong part of the sky.

He took her hand and corrected her.

“Damn, guess I don't get my prize.”

“Maybe I'll let ya have a bonus question to make up for it.”

“What's the question?”

“Tell me something.”

“What do ya want me to tell ya?”

“Dunno, anything. Tell me a story.”

She went quiet for a minute, tapping her cigarette nervously.

“Hmm, Pandora, right? That's what ya said my name was in your dream? Do ya know that story?”

He shook his head, “Nah. Maybe. Sounds kinda familiar.”

“Pandora was the first woman created by the gods. They gave her all these gifts—beauty, nice clothes, the ability to speak, to sing.”

“How fittin',” Daryl muttered to himself, thinking of Beth in his dream.

“What?”

“Never mind, go on.”

“They also gave her a box and told her never to open it, but they had also given her the gift of curiosity and it eventually got the best of her and she opened the box and unleashed all the bad things on the world, illness, suffering, evil, death.”

“Well, that fuckin' sucks.”

“Nah, I haven't gotten to the best part yet. At the bottom of the box, there was one thing left.”

Daryl tried to think of what it could be, probably something worse than all those other things put together, he decided.

“Yeah? What was it?”

“At the bottom of the box was hope.”

“Hmpf,” he grunted. He almost felt like laughing for thinking the worst.

“Don't you think that's beautiful?”

“Yeah, I think you are,” he said, looking her dead in the eyes.

It felt like the bottom of his stomach dropped out when he realized what he had said. He had meant to say he agreed that the story was beautiful, but his tongue slipped.

They sat in silence for a few more minutes, while they finished their cigarettes.

“Well? Was that good enough to get my prize?” she said finally.

His heart was racing in his chest. She had earned it and he wanted to.

“Close your eyes,” he agreed with a nod.

Beth's eyelids closed and her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks. He took one last drag on his cigarette. His hands shook as he ground it against the roof to put it out. His palms were sweating again and and his stomach was doing backflips. His mouth was dry all of a sudden. He licked his lips and pressed them together. 

Why the fuck was this so damn hard? It wasn't like he had never kissed a woman before, although most of them had been drunken one night stands. None of them seemed that memorable to Daryl. They were average. They were human, flesh, bones, eyes dulled by alcohol and heroin. They were a means to an end, a distraction in the same way that drugs and alcohol were for him. They were to prove something to Merle, to prove something to himelf.

Beth wasn't like them. Beth was different. Beth was special. Beth was like starlight or the electrical charge that hung in the air before a thunderstorm, something that was hard, if not impossible to grasp, maybe dangerous even. She was like the goddesses and nymphs in the myths. She could run like a deer, sing more sweetly than any bird and her skin seemed glow from within like the moon. Hell, it was glowing right now. He was beginning to realize, he idolized her, worshipped her. He would follow her anywhere, chase her like Orion chased the seven sisters, but he was so terrified she was going to slip through his fingers like water through cupped hands.

His eyes moved over her body, starting at the toes of her worn cowboy boots, up her legs and thighs where the faded denim clung tight to her long slender lines, up over her brown leather belt that had become supple from being worn every day, to where her swords were tucked into it on either side and where her knife was holstered against her thigh, up over her stomach where she had laced her hands together and her fingers were still tipped with the red polish that had only just begun to chip off, up over the pale pink fabric of her tank top that was stained with dirt and little splatters of walker blood, up over her chest where the silver horseshoe necklace draped over her scar and disappeared beneath the neckline of her shirt, and finally up to her face. Her hair was fanned out over the sweater she had wadded up to lay her head on. Her eyelashes were still fluttering, but she was being patient and didn't open an eye to peek and see what was taking so long.

Daryl leaned over her like he had when he lit the cigarette for her. Beth's lips were slightly parted as if she was anticipating what he was about to do—or at least attempt. Doubt weighed on his shoulders. He didn't know if he possessed the hero's strength and boldness it must take to dare kiss a goddess. His body already seemed to be turning to stone at his audacity for even thinking he might be able to. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. The blood beneath his skin was heating up, threatening to burst into flame.

He could hear her voice in his head.

_You can rely on me for anything—for everything._

Daryl wasn't sure if that's exactly what she had said, but that's how he remembered it. It was enough to give him a surge of courage and push away his doubts. He ran a hand up her arm, barely touching her. He stopped just before her shoulder and allowed his fingers to sink into the flesh there. His other hand traced the curve of her jaw up to her cheek. Daryl leaned in closer. He could feel her soft breaths ghosting across his cheek. He sucked in one last deep breath and he could've sworn he heard her do the same.

He closed the distance and pressed his lips to her soft full ones. Her lips moved against his, slowly, to a carefully measured tempo, a wordless song. His hand still rested against her upper arm and he could feel the electricity racing over her bare skin as he kissed her. The tip of her nose brushed against his cheek and her hand came up and lightly moved through the back of his hair.

_This is heaven. She's heaven._

The kiss was longer than the one they shared yesterday in that meadow, but neither of them pushed to deepen the kiss and turn it into an open mouth one. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to slide his tongue past those perfect pink lips and taste her fully, not to swing his leg over her hips and grind against her body, not to slip his hand up under her shirt, touch her and feel her gasp against his lips.

Reluctantly, he pulled back. His self-control was reaching its limit. Her eyes were open now and she was smiling. He knew she was feeling it too, that weird fluttering in her gut, the same one he had right now. She was still there. She hadn't turned into a deer or a bird or a star. She hadn't run off into the woods beckoning him to chase her. She hadn't slipped through his fingers like water. And he was still there too. He hadn't turned to stone or caught fire. He could do this. They could do this.

He laid back down next to her and lit up another cigarette to try and make the spinning in his head stop. He sucked in and the smoke warmed his throat and calmed his nerves. He brought the cigarette away from his mouth and let the smoke roll out. Beth's fingers brushed against his and she took the cigarette from him and put it to her lips. He could swear her hands were shaking as much as his, but she was smiling and so was he. Daryl tried to ignore the surge of thoughts buzzing through his mind and just be there in the moment with her, watching the stars in silence and passing the cigarette back and forth until it was gone. He put it out and turned his head to look at her.

“Ya got that look like you're thinkin' about somethin',” Daryl said.

She was so easy to read. Well, maybe not, maybe he had just gotten good at it.

“Did ya mean it earlier when ya said I'm like Maggie?”

“Nah. Well in some ways ya are. You're both stubborn as hell and you're both badasses. Did ya mean it when ya said I'm like Merle?”

“No. I was just teasin' ya. Merle wasn't at the prison long and I was kinda scared of him when he was so I tried to avoid him.”

Daryl laughed, “He wasn't the friendliest guy.”

“But, he was still your brother. I wish I would have gotten to know him.”

“Not much to know. He was an asshole.”

“Maybe he wasn't so bad after ya got to know him.”

Daryl remembered how Beth had mentioned Merle being in her dreams a couple times and in her daydreams where she imagined the two of them meeting before the turn. Merle was almost always in his too. He hadn't thought about it much because it seemed natural. After all, he had lived with Merle ever since he was sixteen. It was kind of weird though that she was inserting Merle into hers. She was right, she hardly knew him.

Beth had fallen silent next to him. Her eyes were closed and her chest was rising and falling in slow waves. Goosebumps covered her arms. He should wake her up and they should go inside and lie under the quilt where it was warm. Instead, he removed his vest and draped it over her chest. The faded wings fluttered with every breath where they were beginning to peel off at the top.

Daryl lit up one more cigarette. Last one of the night, he promised himself. It felt so goddamn good to smoke again. It felt good to share a cigarette with her too every now and then even if it did make him feel a little guilty. It wouldn't hurt her to have one once in awhile, but he didn't want to make her addicted to them. Maggie would kill him if Beth was chain smoking when they found the group.

He stared up at the dark sky. They were already going to have a lot to explain to the group, unless this all stopped before then. Daryl knew that wasn't going to happen. He didn't want it to and she didn't either. They were only going in deeper every day. What were they going to tell Maggie and Glenn? That they were together now? That they were a couple? That he was Beth's boyfriend now? Were they? Was that what he was? Daryl wasn't sure. Neither of those seemed to do justice to whatever their relationship was.

He tried to imagine how he would have introduced her to Merle if they had met before the turn. His mind was blank. He had never introduced a woman to Merle before. It was usually Merle trying to introduce him to girls. Maybe he'd introduce her as his girl or his woman. Neither of those felt quite right. That's how Merle would have introduced whatever woman he was fucking at the time.

He decided he'd just introduce her as Beth, because that's what she was to him. Just Beth. The _just_ part was misleading though because those four letters—her name—had come to encompass his entire world. She formed the earth beneath his boots, the sky that stretched out endlessly above his head and every little thing in between and without her he didn't know if he'd want to keep going, keep trying to find the group even.

Next to him she mumbled his name in her sleep and her hand shot out, groping blindly for him. He wondered if she was dreaming about him. He wondered if she could sense he was thinking about her, about them. He was always thinking about her these days. Daryl held out his arm and her fingers wrapped around his wrist. She opened her eyes.

“Hey,” he muttered, “I'm right here, Beth.”

“Huh?”

“You said my name in your sleep.”

“Did I? I wasn't dreamin'.”

She sat up and his vest slid into her lap. She looked down at it confusedly.

“Ya looked cold,” he told her, “C'mon. Let's go inside. Get some sleep. I got more for us to do tomorrow.”

He offered his hand to her and helped her to her feet. They went back inside and down the ladder. It was completely dark inside, but Daryl didn't see the point of lighting a candle. They were both exhausted and were going straight to bed anyways. They felt their way to the bed and Beth sat on the edge pulling her socks and boots off. He sat next to her and did the same. He heard her belt buckle clink as she undid it and laid her swords and knife on the night stand. He heard the zipper on her jeans go down and he could feel her wiggling around next to him trying to get them off. He reached down blindly in the dark and found the denim where it clung tight to her ankles and pulled. She mumbled a thanks as the jeans came off and dropped to the floor. His own jeans were crusted with walker blood so he traded them for the sweatpants. He was debating whether or not to change his t-shirt when Beth's whimpering interrupted his thoughts.

“You ok?” he asked.

“Yeah. My back's just hurtin' after leanin' against the roof,” she said.

Daryl groped around for her in the darkness. She was standing up, struggling to get her shirt off. He moved in front of her and found her shoulder and moved his hand down her arm to where it was tangled in the armhole of her tank top. He gently pulled her arm back through. He ran his hands down her sides and curled his fingers around the hem of her shirt and started to roll it up. He did it slowly, allowing his knuckles to brush over her naked skin, allowing himself to feel each little shiver that his touches invoked. Finally, he felt the strands of her ponytail tickle his arms as he pulled the top over her head. He brought his hands back down onto her shoulders and let them slide down her back until they found the little metal hooks on the back of her bra.

“Daryl,” she breathed. Her skin felt hot under his fingertips as he unhooked her bra and felt the elastic snap away from the center of her back.

“I know ya hate sleepin' in it,” he said. It was true. Unless she was dead tired she would always try to remove it before laying down for the night.

His fingers traced up her back to her shoulders where he found the straps and gently pulled them down her arms until he heard the soft thump of the bra hitting the floor.

“What are ya doin'?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly with fear.

“C'mere,” he mumbled, sitting back down on the bed.

Beth sat between his legs. He put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer, but not so close that she could feel how hard he was. He set his hands back on her shoulders and pushed his thumbs into the soft flesh between them, massaging slow circles there. He could feel how tight the muscles were. Beth whimpered and leaned into his touch.

“Where's it hurtin'?” he asked her.

“Everywhere,” she laughed.

His hands worked their way out to the edges of her shoulders, slowly, carefully, not moving on from a spot until he felt the muscles beneath relax fully relax. He moved lower, rolling his knuckles around her shoulder blades and along the curve of her spine.

Her head fell back onto his shoulder and she moaned his name. Daryl sucked in a breath and tried to focus his mind somewhere other than the throbbing his boxers.

“Where'd ya learn to do that?” she asked.

“Ain't nothin' special,” he said, sliding his hands around to her chest and locking his fingers together just under her breasts. She winced as his hands pressed into her ribs.

“Careful, I'm bruised from yesterday, when the walker fell on top of me.”

Daryl grunted and loosened his grip on her. Her skin was cool to the touch now and he could feel goosebumps forming. He pushed back the quilt and she climbed under it with him. He lay on his back and she pressed up against his side. He could feel her nipples had gotten hard through the fabric of his shirt.

“Do ya want a t-shirt or somethin' to put on?” Daryl asked her.

“Nah, doesn't matter.”

Not quite the answer Daryl was hoping for. He was going to have to really focus his mind if he was going to get any sleep tonight. He went over the list of things they needed to do tomorrow and over the next week. That helped somewhat. He could feel the blood draining from his erection. Unfortunately, every time she shifted around he felt it rushing right back. He should have insisted that she put that stupid nightgown on. At least have one more layer of fabric between them. He was too tired to fight her on it and she was already asleep next to him anyways. He closed his eyes. He let his body relax. The warmth of her body and her slow steady breaths was putting him to sleep. He tried to stay awake as long as he could, just enjoying the feeling of her, but he was too exhausted to last long.

 


	24. Twenty Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Child Abuse/Domestic Violence: This chapter contains descriptions of Daryl's past and the verbal, physical, emotional abuse he suffered at the hands of his father.
> 
> Note: This chapter starts with Daryl's dream. I had originally planned on putting this dream in Chapter 23, but realized the chapter was too long with all the stuff I wanted to happen after the dream so it was moved to the beginning of this chapter.

Daryl was young again, maybe twelve or thirteen. Leaves and branches crunched under his boots as he pushed deeper into the woods behind his house. In the distance he could hear his dad screaming, at whom he didn't know. Maybe at the ghost of his mom. Since her death, he sometimes yelled at her like she was still alive, usually only when he was very drunk.

The scars on his back felt like they were on fire and he could feel fresh blood soaking through his t-shirt from the latest place his dad had smacked him with the hard metal buckle on his belt. He tried to recall what he had done to set his dad off this time. He had probably made some smart-ass remark. He had gotten good at that. Daryl had learned long ago that when his dad was in a drunken rage, it mattered very little if he stayed quiet, curled up in a ball in the corner, or if he screamed back and got in the old man's face. Either way, Daryl was going to get his ass beat.

His stomach rumbled. He hadn't eaten anything in almost 48 hours. That must have been it. He vaguely remembered asking his dad why there wasn't anything to eat in the house. Why he even bothered to ask, he didn't know. The old man's disability check had come in the mail two days ago and of course he had blown it all on booze and had been piss drunk since he left the liquor store that was conveniently located less than a mile from their house.

Merle was gone again. Hell, he was almost always gone these days. Merle had enough of their dad's shit so he stayed away from the house as much as possible. Didn't matter much anyways. Merle couldn't protect him and whenever he tried to talk to his brother about what his dad was doing to him, Merle just ignored him, like he didn't want to hear it. Daryl couldn't blame him. Merle had endured just as much abuse at the hands of their dad as he had.

Daryl stopped walking when he got to the stream that cut through the woods. He was a good mile or two from his house now. The old man probably wouldn't follow him this far. Probably. There was no certainty in this place in time. Daryl shuddered. His dad had followed him out this far once before, but only once. Images from that night flashed in his brain. He saw himself stumbling barefoot over branches, trying to stay ahead of the sound of his dad's voice booming through the forest.

_Ya worthless sonofabitch get your ass back here! At least your brother has a backbone!_

That night was more terrifying than any he had faced before or after the turn. He knew no matter how far he ran, he'd never outrun that man. Daryl's lungs heaved, his feet were cut and bleeding from running barefoot in the dark. He sank to his knees and the wet mud soaked through the hand-me-down Star Wars pajama bottoms that had been Merle's and before that, someone else's and maybe even someone else's before that. Judging by how worn and faded they were, they had seen several owners. He tried to get up again, but the mud was too slick and he fell face first into it. Branches snapped and his dad's swearing got louder. Somewhere a screech owl called through the dark trees, a warning, a scream.

His dad came up behind him and put his boot in the middle of Daryl's back. The man yelled at him to get his ass up and when he couldn't because of the weight on him, his dad began to strike him with something hard and metal. He couldn't remember much after that. More screaming about how he was useless, worthless, should have been drowned in a bucket when he was born. Daryl's back opened up, soaking his shirt with red. The last blow caught him in the back of the head and he blacked out.

When he came to, it was light out and he was lying face down on the muddy bank of the stream. His shirt was ripped to shreds and matted to his back with dried blood. Every inch of his body burned with pain. Panic and adrenaline pumped through him as his eyes darted around, praying that his dad wasn't still there. Nothing. Just the cooing of a lone mourning dove, singing its sorrowful tune.

For a time, Daryl had thought this was just how all dads were. He would see the other kids at his school with bruises and scrapes and he assumed it was just something dads did. His dad told him that if anyone ever asked him about his injuries he was to say he fell off his bike, even though Daryl never owned a bicycle in his life.

In second grade, for Valentine's Day the teacher made his class do some shitty craft where they had to draw a picture and fill in the blank “Love is_____”. Daryl had just stared blankly at the paper for a good twenty minutes before the teacher came over and asked him what was wrong. He didn't know what to say. The assignment made no sense to him. He couldn't define that word. She told him to just draw something, anything. He ended up drawing a picture of him and Merle, crooked stick figures with black crayon frowns, standing in front of a background of tangled lines of brown and green. That was all he knew then. He left the line blank or maybe he scribbled something illegibly to appease his teacher who probably squinted at it and made it out to say something like “my family” or “spending time with my brother.”

Daryl ripped himself away from his memories and splashed some water on his face. He sat down on the wet bank and lit up a cigarette. The smell of them always brought back images of his mom. He could see her standing over the stove, a bottle of whisky next to her on the counter, cigarette between her fingers, her long brown hair hanging down the back of her t-shirt that was two or three sizes too big for her slight frame. She was scowling, even though she had her back to him, he knew, because she was always scowling.

_Love is when your mom takes a punch for you?_

She had taken hits for him, not really on purpose. She had just happened to stumble drunkenly in between Daryl and his father when he was hitting him. Was that really love then? He didn't know.

His heartbeat picked up at the sound of leaves crunching. His body tensed up. His legs were like tightly coiled springs ready to launch him into a run if his dad was behind him. An arrow sailed past his head and struck a tree. A squirrel gave a pitiful little squeal as the air left its lungs.

She lowered her crossbow and stepped out of the weeds where she was hiding. She was dressed in a tank top and a pair of short denim shorts, like most of the other girls that lived in the neighborhood. Her long blonde hair was pulled into a low ponytail with a braid woven into the side.

She crossed the stream, balancing on a fallen log, wearing those same worn cowboy boots she always had on. She pulled the arrow out and sat down next to him. She tossed the squirrel into his lap.

“Ya hungry?” she asked.

_Love is givin' up your kill to feed someone else?_

He nodded. She gave him her knife, the little one with the bone hilt, and he cut open the animal and then ripped into the flesh raw, blood staining his fingers. He didn't give a shit. He was starving.

She watched him without saying a word, without a “gross!” or a “ain't ya gonna cook that?” which felt strange. He had eaten raw meat before as part of a dare from some other kids. The girls had all screamed in disgust. One had even thrown up.

This girl, the one who's shoulder was pressed against his right now, just gave him a smile, a familiar one, full of some word he couldn't think of. He knew her. Her name was Beth. But she wasn't one of the neighborhood girls. She didn't belong here. She was from an entirely different part of his life, one that would not come to pass for years. And yet, here she was.

Daryl had devoured the tiny creature in a matter of minutes. Beth took his hands in hers and dunked them beneath the cold surface of the stream. Her fingers worked around his, gently scrubbing until the blood fell away in red ribbons and was carried downstream by the water.

_Love is______._

“Your back's bleedin'.” she said, walking to sit down behind him.

“Yeah, guess it is.”

“Your dad hit ya again?”

He nodded. He waited for her to pity him, but she said nothing. She took her shirt off and dipped it in the water. She rolled up the hem of his t-shirt and sighed as she examined the gash. He winced as the wet shirt stung the open wound on his back. She was humming softly as she cleaned it and stroked his back. The pain eased up after awhile and he could tell it was no longer bleeding. She put her shirt back on. It clung to her skin and her pink bra was visible under it. A rusty colored splotch had spread across the middle of the shirt.

Beth sat next to him again. She was watching him with those pretty blue eyes of hers. He felt relaxed for the first time in a long time.

“Ya got that look. You're thinkin' about somethin',” he said after awhile.

“It's nothin' really. Just thinkin' maybe we don't have to go back. We can stay out here. Forever.”

They couldn't stay out there forever. Daryl knew this in some deep, dark place in his heart. None of this could be changed or erased. The sun set and the sky darkened. Heavy footsteps filled the spaces in between the trees followed by yelling.

“I know you're out here, ya pussy! Stop hiding! I didn't raise no fuckin' coward!” his dad called through the darkness.

“We have to run,” Daryl told Beth.

“No. Not this time, Daryl,” she said defiantly.

She stood up and loaded the crossbow. How the hell she suddenly had the strength to do so, he didn't know. She aimed it into the trees behind them. Her skin was glowing like the moon. She didn't seem human anymore, which somehow didn't surprise Daryl.

“The fuck you doin' out here with this slut?” his dad slurred as he staggered out of the trees.

Next to him Beth growled. Her teeth looked sharper and longer, like a wolf's or some big cat's.

Daryl tried to decide if it was better to stay silent or make a smart-ass remark. He supposed it didn't matter much at this point if his dad was mad enough to come all the way out here.

“You're jus' jealous cause ya can't get it up when you're drunk. And you're always drunk,” Daryl said with a smirk.

His dad raised the object he held in his hand, a crowbar, and went to strike Daryl with it. Beth stepped between them. Her head was flung to the right as the crowbar snapped into her jaw. She wiped the blood from her lip with the back of her hand. His dad raised the bar again. She didn't back down. Daryl knew she wouldn't. She wasn't a coward and she was stubborn as hell. This time the blow fell on her chest and he could see her old scar open up and start to ooze blood. He felt helpless again, as helpless as he felt as a child.

Beth took hit after hit from the metal bar. Her clothes were sticky with blood, but she didn't say a word, didn't beg for mercy, didn't run away. His dad became winded after awhile. Beth went on the offensive then. She returned every one of his blows until he was a crumpled mess in the grass. It was magnificent to watch, the way she moved—no danced—around him with those swords of hers and the way she showed restraint, never hitting him hard enough to kill him.

She towered over him. She raised her crossbow again and aimed down at him. He was begging for mercy, saying all the same old lies about how he'd change, how he'd stop drinking, how he'd get a job. Daryl thought she was going to kill him. Instead, she brought her crossbow down hard against his jaw and turned back to Daryl, leaving his father a sobbing mess on the ground.

“Aren't ya gonna?” Daryl asked, nodding over his shoulder at his dad.

“Nah. We're never comin' back. Doesn't matter,” she said, shaking her head.

A calm washed over him. Her hand found his and she led him across the stream and deeper into the woods. The world was fading around them, turning to blackness.

_Love is____, Love is_____, Love is_____._

The words echoed in his head on an endless loop as he tried to fill in the blank with the right word. His heart was beating a frantic rhythm. Her pulse was moving just as fast. He could feel it through his fingertips. He had no idea where they were in space or time or if it even mattered. They were alive. They were together.

Beth smiled at him over her shoulder and the world lit up with a blinding flash. The mad ant march of words in his brain stopped. The light made them scatter in a hundred directions leaving only three.

_Love is her._

When Daryl opened his eyes, his back felt like it was on fire, like all his scars had reopened and were oozing blood. Beth sat next to him in the gray dawn, humming quietly and pulling at a button on the sleeve of the flannel shirt she had put on. The quilt covered her lap. Daryl's shirt was soaked with sweat, but the room was freezing. They hadn't turned the wood stove on at all yesterday and the night had been cold. He stretched his arm under the blanket and it brushed against the hard muscle in Beth's thigh. Her skin felt like ice against his sweaty palm and he found himself rubbing along the outside of her thigh, trying to transfer some of his heat to her and cool his body down at the same time. She looked down at him and gave him a little smile. He wondered if he had been yelling in his sleep. His stomach turned over sending up a surge of nausea.

“Hey,” she said, sweeping a hand across the hair that had fallen into his eyes, “You're finally awake.”

“You been up long?” he asked, sitting up to lean against the headboard with her.

“Maybe an hour. Couldn't sleep anymore. Got this restless feelin'.”

He nodded. He understood that. He had the same feeling and the only thing that fixed it was being out there, out there in the forest with the rush of adrenaline. He never imagined that she'd one day share that feeling with him. Beth had always seemed more content being inside, inside the farmhouse, inside the prison, inside the cell block. Maybe they'd always shared that restless feeling, maybe he had been too wrapped up with scratching his own itch to notice hers or even stop to think she might have one.

“Were you dreamin'?” Beth asked him, “You said my name a couple of times.”

“Nothin' but nightmares,” he said after a long pause.

Silence hung between them. He could tell she was weighing whether she should ask him for more information or not. Outside, a bird was singing to the empty forest. It sounded like some kind of thrush. The notes were clear and high pitched, like a fork being clinked against a glass, a hollow and haunting sound that was both hopeful and sorrowful at the same time, echoing with a kind of loneliness.

Beth was still waiting patiently next to him. His hand was squeezing her thigh under the covers. He could feel the blood pumping through the veins there. Images from the dream flashed through his brain and he suddenly felt overwhelmed between the memories of his dad and the presence of Beth amongst those memories and the revelation she had brought to him in his sleep just before he woke up.

It was something he had known deep down for awhile now, but he didn't know what to do with it or where to put it, so like an odd painting that clashed with the décor, he kept it hidden in the back of the closet in his mind. He was reconsidering it now, and starting to think that maybe, just maybe, it wouldn't look so bad amongst his other things, maybe it would even be a major improvement, maybe it was the missing piece that would tie the whole room together and give it a sense of completeness.

This was something different than just enjoying touching her, holding her hand, holding her, sleeping next to her in the bed. This was something grander and far more intimidating. It was like comparing a puddle of rainwater to the ocean, but Daryl supposed both served equally well for drowning a person. Beth's hand found the one he had on her thigh and traced his arm up to the back of his shoulder.

“You ok?” she asked, “You're shaking.”

Was he? He felt the urge to throw off the covers and run into the bathroom and pump cold water over the back of his neck until it soaked his hair and ran down into his eyes, his nose, his mouth. The soft, upward curve of Beth's lips was pinning him to the bed. She gave him that familiar smile, the one that was full of some word he couldn't think of because he didn't know what it was. His brain was digging around, trying to find the right words to describe the nightmare to her, but none of them fit right. He wasn't even sure he wanted to tell her everything from the dream, especially not the stuff about his father. The moment slipped away and he was overcome with a sense of relief that was marred by a pang of failure.

“I'll make us somethin' to eat,” Beth said quietly.

She climbed out from under the covers and his hand flopped down into the mattress. He watched her bouncing up and down, rubbing her legs together in front of the wood stove, trying to get warm. The hem of the yellow flannel shirt hung down just far enough to cover her ass. She had pulled on her gray wool socks, but she hadn't bothered with pants.

Daryl got up too and went into the bathroom, slamming the door to make sure it shut properly. He took a piss and then stripped down and pumped some cold water over his back. And it was cold, icy cold, this morning. He sucked in a breath and shuddered as the water poured over his back, soothing the aching scars that stretched across his skin. He sat there shivering for a few minutes after the water had stopped flowing.

He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror as he dried off. The scars on his back looked as ugly as ever. He forgot just how many there were until he saw them again. They started at the top of his shoulder blades, a little x-shaped one just below the curve of his left shoulder. The leg of the x pointed across his backbone to a particularly long and thin one that started on his right shoulder and cut diagonally across his spine. There was a break in the scar for a few inches where it crossed his backbone and then continued on, darker there, wrapping around under his armpit and curling around to his chest. Lower on his back, two very nasty, blistering, thick, purple-gray scars ran parallel with each other, shooting up diagonally from his right hip and stopping just short of the gap in the long diagonal scar. The parallel scars also had a small gap in them that occurred just before they crossed his spine. His lower back was mostly covered in smaller, thinner scars that resembled angry cat scratches with one very prominent and long scar that started low on his left hip and stretched up to cradle the two parallel scars.

His front was covered with them too. He supposed they were just as bad as the ones on his back, but they looked softer to him, maybe because he was used to seeing them every time he removed his shirt to change his clothes or bathe. Most of them on his chest and stomach weren't that bad, he supposed, with the exception of a thick one that started just below his right shoulder and dipped towards his breastbone and the one that crossed his ribcage and stomach, starting just below his left nipple. The other ones were fainter, lighter in color and less raised, but they still crisscrossed his chest and stomach nonetheless.

Beth knew about the ones on his back and maybe the ones on his front too since she said she helped stitch him up that day at the farm. She knew now too that his father had given them to him. She hadn't yet asked for an explanation of the when, where, why, and how the scars were made. Daryl wondered if that was coming. He wondered if he'd have to talk about it with her and if he could.

Three quiet taps on the door made him jump and fumble for his shirt. He forgot to grab a clean one so he pulled on the same sweat soaked one he had slept in.

“Breakfast is ready,” Beth called through the door.

Daryl flung it open and crossed the room to sit on the counter with her. She had pulled on her jeans and buttoned up the rest of the buttons on her flannel shirt. She passed him a bowl of gray flavorless meat.

“The hell is this?” he grumbled.

Daryl took a bite. It was beyond bland. He scrunched up his face and choked it down. Beth passed him a jar of peaches. He took a swig of the juice then popped one into his mouth.

“Chicken in a can,” Beth told him, “Sorry, I was getting sick of veggies and it was this or tuna.”

“Think the tuna woulda had more flavor.”

“It is pretty bad. We should go huntin'. Haven't been in a few days.”

He nodded and they finished the rest of the flavorless meat and threw the bowl down on the counter. They passed the jar of peaches back and forth until it was gone and he licked his fingers clean. Daryl jumped off the counter and put his hands around Beth's waist to lift her down. He stepped into his boots and draped his crossbow over Beth's shoulder.

“C'mon, Greene, you're gonna catch us some dinner.”

“Really?” she asked, a smile spreading across her face, “Thought ya said we had a lotta work to do around here?”

“We do. Not working on an empty stomach again like yesterday,” he grumbled, throwing the door open.

Beth skipped out the door past him, her ponytail bouncing behind her. She leapt down the stairs while he locked the door.

“Ya better stop that before ya fuck up your ankle again,” Daryl warned her, but really he liked seeing her like this, so alive, so full of energy, so happy. He felt that squirming sensation in his gut knowing that he was at least partially responsible for her cheerful mood.

She skipped along for awhile through the trees until he reluctantly reminded her they were supposed to be looking for animals and walking quietly. He didn't see any harm in letting her bounce along for a little bit though. It was painfully apparent how restless she was. They both hated being cooped up for too long even though they were glad they had the cabin for warmth and a safe place to sleep at night.

Beth walked ahead him, crossbow raised. She was bent over looking at the ground. She stopped to study the dirt and he came up beside her. She had found a three clawed print, a turkey track, and it was recent from the looks of it. He nodded to her and patted her shoulder. He stayed behind her as she followed the tracks to an opening in the forest. Trees ringed a small field of dried grass here.

She stepped forward, her eyes surveying the grass. A twig snapped as she accidentally crunched it under her boot. He could tell she was biting back a swear at her carelessness. Out in the field a long black neck shot up from the grass and the bird let out a surprised gobble. He could sense Beth's body tense up as she aimed the crossbow. Daryl stayed still. He held his breath as the arrow flew through the grass. The bird's wings fluttered, rattling the grass and it let out another cry, something between a disgruntled gurgle and a panicked screech.

Beth moved forward, slowly, slinking through the grass like a cat to collect her kill. Daryl was watching her ass as her hips swayed.

“I got it! I got!” she cried, “It's _heavy_!”

She was skipping back across the field, the crossbow over her shoulder and the turkey flopping against her leg as she carried it by its feet. He opened his arms for her and she slammed into his chest. The dead bird thumped against his back. He ran his hands down her neck and back, locking his fingers around her lower back.

“Not bad, Greene,” he said.

She was looking up at him, grinning and her smile only widened at his praise. He wanted to kiss her again, but he wasn't sure. Would she be alright with that? Did he need to ask? She hadn't asked the first time and he hadn't asked last night, although he had made the kiss a reward for a game. He wondered if she had known from the beginning that the prize was going to be a kiss. She was still staring at him. He brought his hand up and traced the curve of her lips with his thumb, slowly and lightly, hoping she could make sense of his wordless question. She lowered her eyes, watching it.

“Daryl,” she breathed. He felt her lips tremble as she spoke.

“Hmm?”

“I want ya to.”

He traced his thumb down her chin and under it. She licked her lips and parted them. Daryl leaned in so that his lips just barely brushed hers. He heard the turkey crush the grass as she dropped it. Both her hands came up and closed around the one he had under her chin.

“You're shaking,” Beth told him. He felt her lips vibrate against his as she spoke.

“Hmpf, so are you.”

Beth moved his hands so they were locked around her the small of back again.

“Then make it stop, Mr. Dixon,” she whispered, before she closed the half a centimeter distance that remained between their lips.

Beth's fingers fisted in the front of his shirt. She parted her lips more this time and he followed her lead. Very carefully, he slid his tongue along the inside of her bottom lip, getting just the barest taste of her. She tasted like the peach juice they had drank out of the jar earlier and very faintly like tobacco. He pulled his tongue back and she tasted him in the same way before sliding her tongue back into her mouth and continuing to roll her lips over his.

They broke the kiss when a walker stumbled out of the trees, rushing at them with its teeth gnashing. Beth quickly passed him the crossbow and he loaded it before giving it back to her. She raised an eyebrow at him and he nodded at her.

“Go on. Ya got this,” he reassured her.

She raised the bow and aimed it. The walker had closed over half the distance between them by now. Her hands were shaking. He set his hands on her shoulders to steady her. Together they took a deep breath and Beth fired the arrow. The walker let out a raspy gasp as the arrow pierced its forehead.

“Don't think so much. You're doin' fine,” he said, squeezing her shoulders.

“Maybe ya should take your own advice,” she teased with a wink.

He pulled the arrow free and wiped it on his pants. Beth had picked up the turkey and was working quickly to pluck it. He looked at her with a bit of surprise.

“What? I plucked plenty of chickens before,” she said with a smile, “I know how to get my hands dirty.”

“Suppose ya do.”

He stood guard over her while she plucked the bird clean. He had his head lifted up towards the trees, but out the corner of his eye, he was watching her and he couldn't stop himself from doing so. Beth's slender fingers worked over the turkey. She was singing to it as she plucked it. For some reason, standing over her like that, protecting her reminded him of some old stories about knights. He had been required to read some stories about King Arthur when he was in school—it was the only place he really had access to books other than the ones his mother kept and the magazines his father hid in the nightstand.

The ones his mother liked he had no interest in. Most of those books featured a variation of the same cover which had an image of a very muscular man standing on a cliff overlooking the sea while a woman wearing a ripped dress knelt before him, her head thrown back, hair flying in the wind, as she stared up at him lustfully, desperately. The women his father's magazines didn't bother with clothes ripped or not and the people who published the magazine didn't bother with words. The two types of reading materials were often the source of fights when his parents were drinking, which was almost all the time.

Daryl's dad hated when his mom gave anything or anyone more attention than she gave him. He would beat her when he caught her reading those books.

_Is that what you like, you fucking slut? Big cocks and muscles?_

_If you want dick so bad, why don't you go down to the bar and whore yourself and make us some money._

_Readin's a waste of time. Your brain's too fucking small to understand words anyways._

Daryl's dad screamed at him too when he caught him reading a book he borrowed from the school. It was about King Arthur, but Daryl never got to finish it and as a result he failed the test on it. His dad found him reading it in the woods behind their house and ripped the covers off, tore up some pages, stomped on it and finally pissed on it. Daryl had to participate in a dare to eat raw meat in order to win money from the neighborhood kids to pay the school for the destroyed book. He couldn't tell the teacher that his father had ruined the book and he couldn't ask his dad for money to replace the book, because well, either way his ass would get beat.

_What the fuck ya wastin' time with this shit for? Just a bunch a bullshit fairytales for pussies and little girls. Is that what ya are?_

_I ever catch you readin' again, I'll make ya wish you were fuckin' blind! Get your ass back up to the house and clean up. Your mother's bein' a worthless bitch again._

The sound of a walker crunching through the dried grass broke the stream of memories. As he brought his crossbow up, he realized his hands were trembling bad. His eyes were blurred and he was seeing in double vision. Beth was calling his name as she climbed to her feet. Feathers drifted past him as she ran at the walker with her sword raised. She stabbed it through the eye and pulled her sword out.

“Daryl, are you ok?” she asked gently.

He nodded slowly even though he wasn't.

Her fingers curled around his upper arm, “C'mon and show me how to gut this thing.”

He knew she probably had some idea how to do it, having probably gutted chickens before, but he welcomed the opportunity to sit behind her and feel her close to him. Beth knelt in the grass with the bird laid out in front of her. He sat with her in between his legs and put his knife in her hand. He guided her hands with his own, making the cut down the breastbone. He helped her take out the guts and then he dropped the knife into the grass next to them. Beth didn't move to get up. Daryl's bloodied hands wrapped around her stomach and he let his head drop so that his forehead rested between her shoulder blades. He shut his eyes and listened to her breathing until his own breathing had slowed to match hers.

Beth's hands traced circles over his forearms. She stayed still, not speaking, not moving, not fidgeting, just being there and being patient for him. She couldn't have any idea what had just gone on in his head, yet somehow she seemed to know that this was what he needed right now.

The wind rattled the leaves that still clung stubbornly to their branches. The back of his neck was dripping with sweat and his hair was drenched in it. The breeze felt good and he was calming down. Beth was humming quietly and the sound was creating a barrier between him and the darkness. Someday, he'd find a way to thank her for this, a way to let her know what she did for him, what she does for him every day.

When he felt like his hands were no longer shaking, he stood up and picked up the turkey. He held a hand out for Beth and she took it. He didn't let go when she was on her feet. He laced their blood-stained fingers together and held her hand as they walked because he could, because he wanted to, because it felt good. She was smiling and singing next to him. Her arm gently swinging his back and forth as they moved through the trees.

The last few summer flowers shivered in the cold breeze and snagged on the legs of their jeans. Birds darted over their heads, seemingly unnerved by their presence. The blood on his hand was drying and gluing itself to the blood on her hand. Beth's hair was shining in the early afternoon sun and a few of the turkey's feathers had caught in it. Daryl plucked them away with his free hand and she turned to look up at him, her lips still pouring over the words of her song, the one she sang at the funeral home, the one he liked the best, their song, he decided.

They didn't cross paths with anymore walkers or any people. It felt like they were the only two people left on the planet, a strange and lonely feeling. It felt like the world was both ending and beginning at the same time. Maybe this was what the first humans felt like, maybe this was what it meant to be in the Garden of Eden.

The sun lit up the forest as they walked, making the colors on the trees blindingly bright, making the world seem more like a painting, like something by Van Gogh with all those painfully saturated yellows and oranges, punctuated by red here and there and all thrown together against a stark blue sky that was as deep and as endless as whatever this thing, this word, that he had come to feel for Beth. This was the picture that should have been drawn on that stupid assignment all those years ago. He wouldn't have been able to do it justice though now or then and he wasn't sure that even a master artist like Van Gogh could.

He supposed he could compare it to a drug trip, peyote or LSD, one of those transcendental experiences that only happen once or twice in a lifetime and that are so utterly and exquisitely otherworldly and beautiful that it's impossible to describe it to another person because every single word in the human language falls pitifully short. The words to properly describe this world, the one he walked through now with Beth, might exist somewhere, in another plane, another dimension, in a land inhabited by gods maybe.

When they reached the cabin, he gave her the turkey and hooked his arm under her knees so he could carry her up the stairs the way she liked, the way he liked. He sat Beth on the arm of the couch and turned to bar the door. When he turned back around, she was flopped over on her back watching him, her arms wrapped around the turkey. Her yellow flannel shirt was stained with blood and she had a few smears of it on her face.

He helped her rinse the turkey and get it into a roasting pan lined with foil. They found a meat thermometer in one of the drawers. It was going to be a good four or five hours until the turkey was cooked enough to eat. Daryl decided he'd go up to the roof and work on building a little sheltered area in one of the corners of the balcony so their supples would stay dry and they'd have protection from the weather if they had to survive up there for a few days. Beth was going to stay downstairs and keep an eye on the turkey while she did some laundry.

“I need your boxers,” she said just as he was about to climb the ladder, “Ya only got one pair and they haven't been washed since we were at that funeral home.”

“What am I supposed to wear while you're washin' em?”

“There's some underwear in there,” she said, nodding towards the wardrobe.

“Ok, fine. Turn around.”

She did as he asked and he turned his back to her as well. He found a pair of red boxer briefs in the wardrobe and changed into them. Beth still had her back to him when he turned back around. She had changed out of her jeans and put on a long navy blue cotton dress that must have been buried at the back of the wardrobe. He noticed her pink bra on the pile as he handed over his boxers.

“Did the bras from the car fit?” he asked.

Her face flushed with pink, “Not wearin' one.”

_Oh._

A few feathers fluttered down off the pile of clothes as she turned towards the bathroom. Daryl knelt and picked them up. They were from the turkey, a few short gray fat ones and some of the long brown and white speckled ones from its tail fan.

“I wanted to save a few. So I could remember.”

Daryl grunted and nodded. He felt a little guilty. He wished he wouldn't have been lost in his head while she was plucking the bird. Maybe if he had been paying attention he could have helped her save the turkey's tail fan and they could have mounted it on a board. He tucked the feathers she had saved into his vest pocket. He'd figure out another way to display them. Beth looked at him curiously.

“What are ya gonna do with them?” she asked.

“Dunno, but it's gonna be a surprise.”

“I can't wait.” She was smiling again, that same one that was fucking beautiful and full of that word Daryl still couldn't think of.

The sounds of her voice singing drifted up to the roof where Daryl was nailing boards across one of the corners of the balcony. He formed a little triangle shaped roof that would provide just enough shelter for the two of them to sit side by side.

He went back inside to the loft and dug around in the boxes that were piled up there, trying to find a tarp to drape over the small roof he had created. The first box he went through was all canning supplies, empty jars, lids, and a pressure canner. He moved the box over by the ladder. It might be a good idea to try and can the rest of the turkey meat. They had no other way to preserve it at the moment and it was way more than they could eat in one night just the two of them.

The next box he opened was full of mementos, photo albums, the couple's wedding photos, a jar of shells, a few pretty stones, a dusty wristwatch that no longer worked, a few old film cameras, and at the bottom of the box was a dreamcatcher. It wasn't nearly as nice as the one Daryl used to have in the house he rented with Merle. This one was wrapped in a worn reddish-brown leather cord and had little turquoise and blue beads woven into the web in the center. Cheap fake feathers that had been dyed an unnaturally bright robin's egg blue hung from the bottom of the dreamcatcher.

Daryl hacked off the fake feathers with his hunting knife and replaced them with the feather's from the turkey Beth had shot. It wasn't anything special really, but it was a way to display the feathers and it seemed fitting since they both had been having so many crazy dreams. Maybe having this above the bed would stop him from having nightmares about his dad.

He looked through a few more boxes. One was full of Christmas decorations and another was filled with more of the hunting magazines they had found at the treehouse. Another box held a set of nice plates that had a leaf and acorn pattern painted around their edges. The couple must have only used those for special occasions because all the plates and bowls in the kitchen were plastic or part of a ceramic set that was plain white and probably came from some big box store.

The smell of roasting meat was wafting up into the rafters and making his mouth water. He guessed it would probably be done in another hour or so, at least he hoped because he was starving. Daryl took a few of the nice plates out. He figured Beth shooting her first turkey was a special occasion and they might as well use them.

The cabin didn't have a dinning table or even a small kitchen one. Daryl and Beth usually ate sitting up on the kitchen counter or on the couch. Neither of those places seemed fitting enough for tonight. Daryl brought the plates out to the roof and tried to figure out how to make the weather-worn boards and faded shingles look more appealing. He brought out a black blanket for them to sit on and a few candles because it would be dark soon. The sun was going down and it was getting colder, but not uncomfortably so. Some alcohol would help keep them warm. He set out a jar of moonshine for them to share.

Daryl went back down the ladder and looked in the wardrobe for something cleaner to put on. He decided on a pair of dark colored jeans that didn't have holes in them yet and was about to reach for one of the flannel shirts when he noticed a few pressed button down shirts at the back of the wardrobe. There was a white one, a light blue, a black, and a red one. They weren't anything fancy. They were the kind of shirt Merle would have worn when he was trying to look presentable for his dates—with the State of Georgia Court System. Daryl picked the black shirt because it seemed to have the least chance of being stained. When he went to pull it out, he found that a gray fabric waistcoat was draped over it on the hanger. He took this as well, just to see what it might look like with the shirt.

Beth was working at the counter now, cutting up the turkey and laying the meat out onto a platter along with a can of mixed veggies she had also heated up. She had placed a jar of what looked like apples next to the platter.

He crept past her into the bathroom and closed the door tightly behind him. Daryl stripped down to the red boxer briefs and used one of the rags to clean his arms, shoulders, and face. He used one of the razors they found in the car to get rid of some of the stubble on the sides of his jaw, keeping some on his chin and above his lips. His hair was still greasy, but combing it with the brush Beth usually used at least made it look less wild. He pulled on the clean clothes and put his boots back on so he didn't look ridiculous with the too short jeans. It was too dark in the bathroom to really get a good look at his reflection, but he didn't think the vest looked half bad with the shirt and it was a nice change from his leather one.

Daryl opened the door slowly and crept up on Beth. He put his hands over her eyes.

“Hey, what are ya doin'?” Beth asked him.

“Can't tell ya. It's a surprise,” he whispered in her ear, guiding her to the bathroom, “Wait in there and don't open your eyes until I say.”

He left her in there and closed the door. He gathered up the food and brought up to the roof where he filled up the two plates he had laid out earlier. He lit the candles up there so they could see what the heck they were eating and surveyed the scene he had set up. It looked like some redneck Thanksgiving Day picnic that was trying to pass itself off as romantic and failing at it, but it would be nicer than eating on the counter or the couch like they did every night.

His fingers slipped on the rungs of the ladder as he went back inside to get Beth. He wiped his sweaty palms on his jeans, hoping she wouldn't notice.

“Beth? Do ya still have your eyes closed?” he called through the door.

“Yeah, why?”

“Good. Jus' keep 'em closed.”

He opened the door. She was standing there with her fingers covering her eyes, wearing that blue dress she had on earlier. He could just make out her nipples poking through the thin fabric. She had fixed her hair and pulled it into a low ponytail. Her lips seemed redder than usual and Daryl wondered if she had found some lipstick somewhere in the cabin. He led her up the ladder and onto the roof. He had her stop just before where the blanket was laid out.

“Beth, open your eyes.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edit: Typo fix.


	25. Twenty Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Child Abuse/Domestic Violence: This chapter contains descriptions of the verbal, mental, and physical abuse Daryl suffered as a child at the hands of his father.
> 
> 2/14/16 Update: Happy The Walking Dead Mid-Season Premiere Day! (If you still watch the show) and/or Happy Valentine's Day! (if you don't).

Beth's stomach was fluttering. She still had her eyes closed. Her fingers were threaded through Daryl's and she could feel that his palm was sweating and her own was beginning to do the same. The wind blew and she shivered in the cold fall air. The dress she had changed into earlier was more of a summer dress—a long sleeveless, navy blue maxi dress she had found hidden at the back of the wardrobe. She had remade her ponytail while she waited in the bathroom for Daryl, brushing her hair out and pulling it into a low ponytail on the right side.

She could smell the food again and she guessed that was what he was doing when he told her he had a surprise for her, that eating up here on the roof, under the stars seemed more fitting for this occasion than sitting up on the counter. Her mouth was watering as it had been the entire time she sat in the bathroom with the door open, scrubbing their clothes.

The whole cabin had smelled like Thanksgiving dinner all day and the scent had activated dozens of memories for Beth. Some of which made her laugh and others made her cry, but all of them produced the same sad longing for days gone by.

Beth opened her eyes. Daryl was watching her, squinting at her, trying to read her expression like it was a set of tracks winding through the forest. He had changed his clothes too. She had never seen him in anything other than torn jeans, t-shirts, button down shirts with the sleeves ripped off and that leather vest of his.

“You clean up nice,” she said with a smile.

“Hmpf. Ain't nothin' special,” he grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck and looking down.

“It is.”

It was now too dark outside to tell if he was blushing or not at her words, but she guessed he probably was. Regardless of what he said, she knew that he appreciated her noticing that he had put at least a small effort into looking nice for her. The realization crossed her mind and sent her stomach fluttering again.

“C'mon and sit down. I've been starvin' all day,” Daryl told her.

Beth's eyes stopped tracing the curves of his biceps where the black fabric clung tight.

“Where'd ya get these plates?” she asked him.

“Found 'em in the attic. Whole set of matchin' ones.”

“My mom used to have a similar set. Not exactly the same, but one with a leaf pattern kinda like these,” Beth told him.

“So did my mom. Not half as nice as these of course.”

“We only used ours for special occasions like Thanksgiving and around the end of summer harvest when my dad would have a party to celebrate. What about you?”

“Nah, never used 'em. Never did anythin' special for the holidays. My dad ended up usin' most of those plates for target practice.”

“Didn't your mom cook a nice dinner at least?”

He shrugged, “Nothin' special from what she usually cooked. Nothin' special like this.”

“What about when you lived with Merle? Didn't you do anything to celebrate then?”

He snorted back a laugh at that.

“Nah, we'd usually jus' get a case of beer and spend the whole holiday wasted. There was one year though. I shot a turkey and we were gonna do it up right, have all the side dishes and everythin'. Merle insisted on tryin' to grill the bird outside. It was gonna take all day to cook. We left it out there on the grill while we got lit in front of the TV. Forgot about it until like midnight. We went out there and the grill had gone out. It was all tipped over in the grass and the turkey had been damn near picked clean by stray cats.”

Beth doubled over laughing. She could just imagine the two Dixon brothers stumbling out of the house drunk, screaming at a bunch of cats to get off their Thanksgiving dinner.

“It ain't funny. That was the only turkey I shot that year,” Daryl grumbled.

“What did ya eat instead?”

“Merle thawed out some venison we had in the freezer and we still had the side dishes—corn, sweet potatoes, green beans,” he said, scrunching his face up at the last one.

“The first year Maggie was back from college, she insisted on cooking Thanksgiving dinner for us, but we all knew it was really to impress her boyfriend who she was bringing home to meet my parents. Hmmm what was his name again? Dan or Derek maybe? Doesn't matter I suppose. She had a new boyfriend every month back then.”

“What about you? Did ya have a boyfriend then?”

“Daryl, I was like thirteen then. My dad woulda killed me if I even thought of it.”

“Sorry guess I keep forgettin'.”

“Forgetting what?”

“Never mind, jus' go on with your story.”

“It was a huge disaster. Maggie and Dan or Derek had been up all night drinkin' and Maggie was hungover. On top of that, Maggie didn't know how to cook anythin'. She never wanted to be in the kitchen with my mom when she was cooking, so she never learned anything. She tried to cook the turkey upside down in this tiny disposable foil pan. We came back from the store to find the whole house filled with smoke. The pan had broken and the juice from the turkey had fallen into the bottom of the oven and was burning.”

Daryl was laughing now, “Maggie made me a sandwich once when I was laid up at your house after that damn horse threw me. Never knew someone could make a peanut butter 'n jelly taste so bad.”

Beth fell over laughing again. It felt good and hurt at the same time. God, she missed her sister.

“At least she couldn't undercook that sandwich. The turkey was still pink when she served it and Dan or Derek got food poisoning cause he was the only one who didn't have enough good sense not to eat it.”

“Guessin' that was the end of that relationship.”

“Yep. Needless to say we never saw Dan or Derek or whatever his name was again.”

After their laughter died down, they finished the rest of their turkey and veggies in silence. They were both stuffed so they decided they'd use the pressure cooker Daryl found in the loft to can the rest of the meat. It didn't sound very appetizing to Beth, the idea of eating turkey out of a jar, but Daryl insisted it was a good way to save the leftover meat and and she hated the thought of the rest of her kill going to waste. There was enough meat left to fill up five jars and each jar would probably be enough for a couple days worth of meals, maybe a week if they rationed it. When they finished, they put out the wood stove and almost all the candles. They left one burning on the night stand so they'd be able to see when they came in to go to bed. They went back outside to have dessert since their stomachs were now less bloated.

“I always helped my mom make the desserts,” Beth told him when they were back on the roof.

Daryl grunted as he struggled to get the lid off the jar of spiced apple slices she had found earlier in the kitchen.

“We always had a dessert with every dinner, but if ya didn't eat all your food, you didn't get to have any,” she continued.

“We were lucky if we had one meal a day. No dessert ever,” Daryl grumbled.

“Well, if ya coulda come to our house for Thanksgiving you coulda had all the dessert ya wanted.”

“Yeah? What would ya have made for me?”

“What's your favorite dessert?”

“Dunno. Can't say. I haven't had many.”

“Guess I'd just have to make one of every dessert recipe I know and see what ya like best.”

“And how many do ya know?”

“Oh, I dunno. Maybe fifty, but most are jus' different types of pies or cookies.”

“Fifty desserts? Jesus, woman,” Daryl grumbled, still struggling with the jar of apples.

Finally, the lid came off with a pop. She was sitting closer to him on the blanket now than she had when they were eating dinner. She hadn't noticed earlier, but he smelled clean, like the lavender soap they had in the bathroom. He must have washed up a bit. She had too while she did the laundry. They had both been sweaty and bloody when they came back from the hunt that afternoon. She had also found the red lipstick she brought back from the run in the front pocket of the black backpack and put some on just before Daryl came inside to see if the food was done. She didn't know if he noticed it or not. He hadn't said anything about it if he did. Probably most of it had worn off anyways while she was eating.

Another lid came off with a pop and Daryl took a carefully measured drink of the clear liquid from within it.

“Want some?” he asked.

“What is it? Moonshine?”

“Yeah. Not bad either,” he said, pressing the jar into her hands.

The alcohol burned her eyes and nose as she tipped the jar up to her lips. She scrunched up her face as she swallowed. It was as gross as the first time she had it in that shack weeks ago with Daryl. He took the jar back from her and set it down.

He reached into the jar of apples and plucked one out.

“Think you'll like these,” he said as he thoughtfully chewed on the apple slice.

Daryl pulled another slice out of the jar and she reached up for it awkwardly as he went to push it past her lips. It dropped to the blanket with a soft thump. She giggled. This was getting ridiculous. It wasn't like she was still some silly little school girl, but he was making her feel like one tonight with all this—all the candles, the blanket, the nice plates, drinking moonshine under the stars. What was _this_ anyways? Was it it a date? Was that what he was trying to do by putting all this together?

“Damn it, Greene,” he mumbled, picking the slice up. He popped it into his own mouth, “Ain't no use lettin' it go to waste.”

He licked his fingers clean. He stopped when he noticed she was watching him. Beth stopped when she realized she was grinning at him absentmindedly and maybe in a slightly creepy way. She suddenly felt self-conscious. Her fingers twisted in her ponytail. She remembered feeling like this on her first date with Jimmy. He took her downtown in Atlanta to some fancy Italian restaurant where neither of them could pronounce anything on the menu and Jimmy tried to order spaghetti only to have the waiter scowl at him and say, “We do not serve that here. You might want to try the Olive Garden.” Beth laughed when she thought about it now, but at the time she had been completely mortified.

“Now what are ya thinkin'?” Daryl asked.

“I'll tell ya if you give me one of those apples,” she said with a little smirk.

“Close your eyes.”

Beth shivered when he said it. Her tongue automatically slipped out and licked across her bottom lip. She wondered if he was going to kiss her again, like last night.

_I wish we could do that every night._

The scent of cinnamon filled her nose as something cold and wet pressed against her lips. She parted them and took the whole apple slice into her mouth. Her hands shot up before he could pull his away. She chewed the apple quickly and swallowed it, so she could take his finger into her mouth and run her tongue over it, lapping up the sticky sweet juice it was covered in. She did it slowly, sucking on it like she did with that lollipop at the gas station.

“Mmmm,” she groaned, her lips vibrating around his finger.

He breathed her name and slowly slid his finger out of her mouth.

“You were right. They are really, really, good.” As she said the words, she found herself staring into his eyes and licking the corner of her lips in what she hoped was a flirtatious way.

“What were ya thinkin' about a few minutes ago?” he asked again.

“Nothin' really. Jus' thinkin' about how I keep gettin' the same feelings I got on the first date I ever went on.”

“With Jimmy?”

“Yeah. I was fifteen. It was about half a year before the virus broke out. He took me to this really expensive Italian restaurant and made a fool of himself cause he couldn't pronounce anything on the menu and tried to order spaghetti. I was so nervous then and awkward. He tried to do all those little things like pullin' my chair out for me and opening doors and I wasn't used to havin' someone do those things for me.”

_I'm not used to having someone feed me and licking their fingers clean either._

“Do I make ya feel awkward and nervous?”

“No, you don't. It's just all of _this_ ,” she said, gesturing at the little picnic he had set up for her, “I'm still not really used to someone doin' all this for me and I wasn't expecting it today.”

“Hmpf. Do ya like it?”

“I do, Daryl.”

_I like you._

The thought sent her stomach fluttering again for the hundredth time that night. Of course she liked him. He was a part of her family and had been since they all fled the farm, maybe even when they were still at the farm. This was much bigger than that, much more than a desperation to not be alone out here after the prison fell, much bigger than the schoolgirlish crush she had on Jimmy, much bigger than a simple sexual attraction.

Daryl was watching her as he took another gulp of moonshine. It was dark, but she could swear the feelings that were bubbling up inside of her were reflected in his eyes. He passed her the jar and she took a small sip.

The alcohol was warming her skin from the inside out, but when the wind blew, she still shivered and hugged her sweater close to her body. She moved closer to Daryl and pressed her shoulder against his.

“You cold, baby?” he asked.

Daryl looked away. Beth was close enough to see that his face was turning red.

“Baby?”

“Sorry, meant to say Beth. Tongue slipped is all,” he grumbled.

“Slipped? Like last night when I asked ya if you thought my story was beautiful and ya said you thought I was beautiful instead?”

He was looking off to the side again, but he had wound his arm around her upper back and his fingers dug into her bicep.

“Yeah, well, my tongue slipped then too,” he muttered.

“Did ya mean it though?”

He turned his head back to look at her. The tip of his nose brushed against hers.

“Yeah, I did,” He bit his lip. His eyes darted back and forth, moving around her face. She could tell he was trying to decide whether he should say something else or not or maybe decide whether he should kiss her again.

“I really like this vest on you. Gray and black look good on ya,” she said, looking down, her fingers toying with the fabric covered buttons.

Beth waited for him to give his usual, “ain't nothin' special,” but instead he grunted and muttered a thanks.

“You look good in that dress,” he told her.

“Thanks, Daryl. I had one like it at the farmhouse. Seems too fashionable for the woman who lived here. I wonder if it belonged to the woman's daughter or something.”

Beth reached across Daryl's lap for another slice of apple. She slid it into her mouth and sucked on it a bit before chewing and swallowing. It tasted like fall, all cinnamon and nutmeg. She reached for another one and held it to Daryl's lips. He opened his mouth for her and took it, nipping at her fingers. His hand came up and curled around hers. He licked her fingers clean in the same slow teasing way she had licked his. He fed her another one and this time a bit of the juice squeezed out the corner of her lips and dripped down her chin. She tugged the sweater down over her hand and reached up to wipe it off, but Daryl's hand stopped her.

“Close your eyes,” he demanded.

“What do I get if I do?”

“It's a surprise.”

She closed her eyes. He tilted her head up. She could feel his breath ghosting over the wet spot on her chin.

“Daryl,” his name fell from her lips in an involuntary gasp as his mouth covered the juice trail and his tongue slipped out and slowly followed it up to the corner of her lips.

He pulled back, but still kept her chin in his fingers. He watched her as if he was trying to read the tiniest clues that were hidden amongst her facial features, trying to discern if this was the right direction, if this was the right moment to aim the crossbow and pull the trigger.

_I want ya to._

Was she going to have to give him verbal permission for every kiss?

“Hey, you never showed me any more constellations. I bet ya know all of 'em.”

She knew she was breaking the moment, but she wanted him to make the move to kiss her on his own and she thought maybe he would play the game from last night with her again.

“Alright, I'll teach ya what I know. Lay down,” he told her.

She found herself blushing again and couldn't help but imagine him saying those words to her in a different time and place, one where they were sitting on the edge of the bed downstairs while the fireplace crackled across the room.

Daryl leaned back against the roof, pulling Beth with him. She laid on her side with her head on his shoulder, and her leg swung over his. She knew her back and neck was probably going to hurt again after this, but she didn't care and maybe if she was lucky he would give her another massage.

Daryl pointed out a handful of new constellations, Cassiopeia which looked like W but was supposed to be a woman, the fish—Pisces, a goat—Capricornus, and Beth's personal favorite, the winged horse, Pegasus. She missed the farm, missed the horses, missed the feeling of flying across a field in late September, her hips bouncing in the saddle, her heart thudding in time with each hoofbeat. She could see it in her mind when she closed her eyes, the field glowing golden yellow in the late afternoon sun, the gray and white hide of her horse moving beneath her, his mane brushing her fingers, running, galloping, legs loaded like springs ready to take flight when they reached the fence at the edge of her dad's property. She could see her horse sailing over the fence, hooves curled up under his body and maybe they wouldn't touch the ground ever again, maybe they could just keep going, higher and higher.

“Beth?” Daryl was gently calling her name and shaking her shoulder. His thumb was stroking her upper arm where her sweater had slid down.

“What is it?”

“You were sleepin.”

“Was I?”

He nodded, “For a good hour or two.”

“Nah, felt like I only closed my eyes for half a second.”

“I woulda let ya sleep more, but it's getting cold and my back's killin' me. C'mon, let's go inside.”

Beth sat up. The candles had gone out. Daryl had finished the apples. He took her hand and led her back inside. Just like last night, it was completely dark inside the cabin. The only candle they had left lit had gone out and Beth was kind of glad cause she was too tired to run around putting out candles.

She stood next to the bed and slid the dress down over her shoulders and let it pool around her feet. She stepped out of it and then looked around blindly trying to remember where she left her nightgown. She cursed to herself when she realized it was still drying in the bathroom.

Daryl swore out loud and she found herself grasping for him in the darkness as a jolt of fear shot through her.

“Fucking button is stuck or somethin'!” he growled.

Beth found his shoulders and ran her hands down his chest. He still had the vest and shirt on. His hands were in the way so she couldn't tell what the problem was.

“Here, let me,” she said, pushing his fingers away.

Beth found the button and gently worked at it. It felt like it had become tangled in a thread. She carefully unhooked it from the thread that was wrapped around it and pushed it through the hole. Before Daryl could stop her, she moved onto the next button and then the next one until the vest opened and she was able to slide her hands up his chest and over his shoulders, pushing the vest down his arms. It hit the floor with a quiet swoosh.

Beth set her hands back on his chest, under the collar of his shirt. With a feather-light touch she traced her fingers over the fabric until the found the small plastic button. She undid it and moved for the next one. Daryl sucked in a breath. His fingers wrapped around her wrists.

“Beth,” he growled. His voice was heavy and gravelly, full of an unspoken warning.

“Do ya trust me?” she asked him again.

He didn't say anything, just loosened his grip on her wrists and brought his hands back down to his sides.

Beth undid the buttons one at a time, slowly, methodically, until she reached the last one. She hesitated for a second. She was crossing a line that could not be uncrossed. She waited, listening in the darkness, waiting for him to give his approval or lack of.

“Go on,” he said. His voice was shaking and his breathing had picked up. Short raspy breaths were stirring the hair that had fallen out of her ponytail.

Beth's fingers unknotted the final button and his shirt fell open. She couldn't see a damn thing other than the faintest outline of his body in front of her. Her hands fisted around the collar of the shirt and she pushed it over his shoulders and down his arms. It joined the vest in the pile at their feet.

Her hands hovered over his chest. She didn't know if he wanted her to touch him. She knew he was extremely self-conscious about his scars. She was curious, but curiosity was dangerous. Before she could decide what to do, his hands locked around her lower back and she found herself squished against his chest. Without thinking she wrapped arms around his back and began to lightly trace her fingers over it.

It was like exploring the surface of the moon, so many dips and ridges, bumps and craters covering the hard muscle that lay beneath. She could feel one that was shaped like an x where her hand came to rest on his left shoulder. She wondered what made them. A belt? A willow branch? Something worse? She wondered if all of them were from his childhood. Maybe some were from bar fights or a car accident. How could his dad have made all of them?

Daryl clung to her in silence. She had a thousand questions and no idea where to begin. His fingers traced up and down the smooth surface of her back. Her head was tucked under his chin and her cheek was pressed against his chest. She could feel another raised line there. His breath came in quick gasps and stirred her hair.

Beth was wondering just how much worse it could be when her hand stopped on a particularly large scar that was made up of two thick parallel blistering ridges. What in the hell could have made those? Was he burned or something? She felt nauseous and pulled away from him without thinking.

“Pretty fucking bad, huh?” he mumbled into her hair.

Beth reached for words, for the right ones, but there weren't any. She had restrained herself this far from showing any pity, even if that was what she felt and that was what was overwhelming her right now. She had seen them before, yes, but she had never touched them, never knew just how _bad_ they _felt_. A heavy mixture of disgust and anger towards Daryl's father surged up her throat like vomit.

“Was that what you were dreamin' this mornin'?” she asked. Her voice was shaking. She was fighting back tears. She couldn't cry. She was stronger than that.

“Yeah.”

“And what ya were thinkin' about when that walker came at ya in the field?”

He sighed, “Yeah.”

She shivered against him. Goosebumps had started to form on her skin. Daryl rubbed her arms thoughtfully. He dropped his arms to his sides and she heard him fiddling around with his belt and taking his jeans off.

“C'mon, get into bed before ya freeze,” he said.

Beth groped around for the covers and pulled them back. She climbed in and slid over to her side, the side by the window. She could hear Daryl walking back and forth and clothes scraping against the floor.

“What are ya lookin' for?” she asked.

“The pants I usually sleep in.”

“They're in the bathroom, hanging up to dry. I washed 'em today.”

He grumbled something that sounded like “doesn't matter,” but Beth wasn't entirely sure. The mattress creaked and she felt a gust of cold air against her skin as he pulled back the cover and crawled in next to her. She reached for his hand where it lay at his side and his fingers closed over hers.

“Did you have nightmares about your dad a lot before the turn?” she asked quietly, staring up into the dark rafters.

“Yeah.”

“And after?”

“Not so much. Guess there was too much other shit to worry about.”

Silence fell over the pair of them again. Beth wasn't sure what to say next. She didn't know if she should just outright ask him to tell her about his nightmare or dance around it some more in hopes that they'd eventually meet in the middle over it. She stayed quiet, just listening to his raspy breaths.

“You were there,” Daryl said after what felt like a lifetime. Beth had almost thought he had fallen asleep he was quiet for so long.

“What?”

“In my nightmare.”

“What was I doin'? Hopefully not makin' things worse.”

“Nah, you can only make things better.”

She smiled and wondered if that was another slip or if he meant to say it.

“I'm glad.”

“There was this little creek in the woods behind my house. I used to go out there when my dad was pissed about somethin'. It was maybe a mile or two away from the house. He didn't usually follow me that far out.”

“Usually?”

“He did once. After my mom died. Sonofabitch couldn't do anything without her, couldn't cook, clean, do laundry, get the shoppin' done, make sure there was enough money to pay the electric. As much as he hit her and screamed at her, he was helpless without her.”

“He hit your mom too? And Merle?”

“Mmmhmm. After my mom died, Merle got put in juvie and when he got out he sure as hell didn't wanna come back and live with our dad. Couldn't blame him. I was alone with my dad most of the time. He tried to make me stop goin' to school because he needed someone to cook and clean the house for him.”

“How old were ya?”

“Dunno, maybe nine or ten. Didn't even know how to cook really, but I learned quick. When I didn't show up for school for three or four months, they sent some people out to the house to talk to my dad. Said I had to come back to school or he was goin' to jail. Better believe he was pissed. I went back to school the next Monday and when I got home the power was off. Guess I was supposed to write the check out for it, but I forgot.”

Beth could hear the pace of his breathing pick up and his hand was shaking in hers. She wiggled closer to him in the bed so she could wrap her other arm around his chest and press her cheek to his shoulder. His skin was hot against her face. She couldn't remember a time before tonight when she had laid her head against the bare skin of his shoulder. He always kept a shirt on.

“He didn't say anythin' all day. Jus' sat around gettin' drunk. I knew it was comin' though. I didn't sleep well back then. Always had to be ready to get up and run. I slept on the floor under the window and I always kept it open just incase.”

“Why would he do that? Come after you while you were sleepin'? That's so cowardly.” No, it was worse than cowardly. It was cowardly that he would hit a child to begin with, even more so that he would hit a sleeping child. Beth thought of Judith, of Carl, thought of someone hurting them like that. She'd fucking kill anyone who dared.

“By that age, I had learned to avoid him when he was drunk and pissed off, so he had to find a sneakier way. Sure enough, he woke me in the middle of the night by throwin' a bucket of ice cold water on me. I was out that window and runnin' as fast as I could. I got to that creek, but he was still chasin' me. Beat me until I blacked out. Woke up the next mornin' lyin' in the mud.”

Her stomach turned over and she wished she wouldn't have eaten so much. She moved her head off his shoulder and let it fall back onto the pillow. She swiped a hand over her eyes, trying to brush away the tears before he noticed. Too late, his thumb was rubbing the skin under her eye.

“Ain't nothin' to cry over, Beth. It happened. Can't change it now.”

“How could he do that to ya? How could anyone? Didn't Merle try to protect you? Didn't your mom?” her voice trembled with anger as she spoke.

“Merle didn't wanna hear it when I tried to tell him and my mom, she couldn't do anything to stop him and she was drunk all the time anyways,” he paused and she could tell he was thinking something over, weighing it in his brain, adding up ideas and words like a math equation, “You were there with me at that creek in my dream. Ya shot a squirrel with my crossbow and gave it to me cause I was starvin'. Then ya kicked my dad's ass when he showed up. Thought you were gonna kill him.”

“Wish I woulda,” she grumbled.

“But ya didn't. Thought he was gonna kill me that night, but he didn't. For a long time I wished he woulda.”

“I wish I coulda been there.”

Beth thought for sure he was going to tell her that was stupid, that there was nothing she could of done, that it was silly to think she could have protected him when no one else could, when he had no one he could rely one.

“I wish you coulda been there too.”

“Really?”

“Really. You woulda had him pissin' his pants. He wasn't used to dealin' with women like you or like your sister, with women who were stubborn as hell and not afraid of nothin', women who wouldn't of been afraid to fight him and woulda kicked his dumb ass.”

“Thought ya didn't rely on anyone for anythin' back then?”

“Woulda made an exception to see you and Maggie kick his ass.”

“What was I like in your dream?”

“We were the same age, twelve or thirteen. Other than that you were pretty much the same. Except you were even more badass. You were like some fucking warrior goddess.”

Beth laughed and wondered if that was another slip judging by the fact that he fell silent immediately after the words left his mouth.

“I've got a long way to go before I reach warrior goddess level,” she said with a laugh.

“Which reminds me, I need to continue your trainin'. We've been spendin' so much time on your crossbow trainin' we've been neglecting other stuff like hand to hand combat. Need to work more on you usin' them swords and have you get comfortable takin' on more than one walker at a time. We can start on that tomorrow.”

“Yes, Mr. Dixon.”

He grunted in response and fell silent again. She moved her head back onto his shoulder now that she wasn't crying anymore.

“Get some sleep cause tomorrow, I'm gonna work you hard, girl.”

“Goodnight, Daryl. I hope ya don't have anymore nightmares about your dad and if ya do, I hope I show up to kick his ass.”

Beth dared to lean up and give him a goodnight kiss on the corner of his lips. He turned his head though, before she could plant the kiss and she got more than just a little peck on the corner of his mouth. He kissed her back and she got just the faintest taste of moonshine and cinnamon before he pulled away.

“Night, Beth.”

The stuff Daryl had told her that night weighed on her heart and made her feel nauseous. She tried not to think about it, but it was hard. He was right though, there was nothing they could do about it now. Daryl's dad hadn't beat him to death that night. He was still alive and his heart still beat in his chest beneath her head. She draped her arm over his stomach and dug her fingers into his ribs at the thought of that. She could tell he was still awake because he shifted slightly and brought his hand up to trace circles on her upper arm with his thumb.

His breathing had slowed and deepened. She could tell he had relaxed from her earlier. Her chest rose and fell pushing against the side of his ribs with each breath. After awhile, he was breathing with her and she drifted off to sleep.

The farmhouse was filled with the smell of roasting meat, of cornbread, of sweet potato pie. Beth was helping her mom in the kitchen. The room was filled with steaming pots and pans and it was so hot in there from all the cooking that they had thrown open the window that hung over the sink. Beth anxiously shot a glance out it and over the driveway every few minutes.

Once everything was cooking and she had helped her mom clean up, Beth hurried up to her room to change her clothes. She peeled off the flour stained t-shirt and jeans she had on and pulled on some black leggings and a pretty blue sweater dress. She took her hair down from its ponytail, brushed it out, and put a few curls in it with the curling iron. She did her makeup like she would if she was going on a date with Jimmy, except she put on red lipstick instead of a pale pink gloss.

Back on the front porch, she waited for him, shivering in the chilly November air. This wasn't the first time he had met her dad, but this was the first time they were going to announce to everyone that they were together, that he was her boyfriend. She drummed her fingers on the railing in nervous anticipation. The sound came as a low rumble at first, like distant thunder, and grew louder and louder until it filled the wide open sky that hung over the endless fields. He was speeding up the driveway on his motorcycle, throwing up a cloud of dust behind him. She ran down the steps as he turned the bike off and climbed off. She threw herself into his arms before he could say hello. He caught her and wrapped his hands around her thighs. She kissed him deeply, sliding her tongue past his lips and tasting the tobacco on his breath.

The sound of the screen door slamming startled them and she pulled back, gasping for breath. Reluctantly, Daryl set her down.

“I knew it! I fuckin' knew it!” Maggie laughed. She had come to stand on the porch. Glenn was by her side.

“You guys are so bad at hiding it,” Glenn said in that flat way of his.

The two of them were staring down Beth and Daryl, waiting for them to deny it or give an explanation. Glenn put his arm around his wife's shoulders and she crossed her arms over her pregnant stomach. They had just made the announcement last month, about the same time she and Daryl had decided they wanted to be more than just friends. Everyone had been gushing over Maggie's pregnancy and Beth didn't want to take away from her sister's time in the spotlight, so she and Daryl chose to keep their relationship quiet.

They had kept it a secret partly because they weren't sure how Beth's parents were going to react to it. Her family had known Daryl for a year or two now. He had done some work on some of their trucks and Maggie's car and had become a good and trusted friend to her father who pretty much loved him like a son. Beth wasn't even the one who had invited Daryl for Thanksgiving—her father had. He had been inviting Daryl for the last two years, since he knew Daryl didn't get along with his own family. The biggest problem though, was that Daryl was almost twice her age and she wasn't sure how her parents were going to feel about that.

“Didn't think we were that obvious,” Daryl grumbled.

“How long have you known?” Beth asked.

“Umm, how about since we were all at the prison?” Maggie laughed.

_Prison?_

Images flashed through her brain. She saw herself going into Daryl's cell at night. She saw him sitting on the floor next to her bunk while she hummed to sleep after having a nightmare where Zach's walker was eating her. She saw him standing in the doorway blushing and holding something behind his back.

Beth's hand shot to her neck. Something cold and metal slipped against her fingers. It was a little silver horseshoe charm. A burst of pain shot through her head as an overlay of that other life flickered on top of this one.

“You guys were SO obvious. Always sneaking into each other's cells at night. Don't think Maggie and I didn't know what was going on,” Glenn added.

Beth and Daryl both opened their mouths at the same time to argue with Maggie and Glenn.

“I think ya liked him even when we were still at the farm. Didn't ya tell me on more than one occasion that ya thought Daryl was hot? That you wanted to see him without a shirt on?” Maggie teased.

The screen door slammed again.

“What on earth is going on out here?” her father asked.

“Nothin', Daddy, we were just talkin' about what Maggie and Glenn are gonna name the baby,” Beth said, trying to feign innocence.

He narrowed his eyes at the four of them, but then smiled when he realized Daryl was there.

“Daryl! Glad ya could make it again this year! Never seen ya wear a tie before. It's a good look for ya. You should consider wearing one more often.” her father said.

"Ain't nothin' special, Hershel," Daryl mumbled.

Beth glanced over Daryl's outfit. He was more dressed up this year than usual. He had even worn black trousers instead of jeans. He was wearing a freshly pressed gray button down shirt with a black vest over it and a matching black tie. Beth had never seen him in a tie before. It looked slightly out of place with his shaggy haircut, but she liked the contrast.

The scene changed and they were all sitting around the table. Her parents were seated at each end of the table, Glenn sat to the left of her father and Daryl sat to his right. Maggie sat next to Glenn and Beth sat next to Daryl. Shawn was missing. Suddenly the table stretched and more people came in and sat down. They weren't blood members of her family, but they were family. She pulled their names from the darkness in her brain as they sat down, Michonne, Rick, Carl, Judith, Tyreese, Sasha, Carol.

Daryl reached for her hand under the table and his palm was sweating as much as hers was. Not only were they going to have to have to tell her parents, but they were going to have to tell all these people too. Everyone dished up platefuls of food and complimented Beth and her mom on how amazing the food was. She could hardly taste it though because her heart was thudding so hard in her chest. Daryl squeezed her hand where it rested in her lap. He shot her a sideways glance and she gave him a small nod. Across the table, Maggie and Glenn were smirking at her and whispering behind their hands.

Daryl's fork clanked against his plate as he set it down. He wiped his mouth on his napkin and cleared his throat.

“Hershel, there's somethin' me and Beth need to tell ya,” Daryl said quietly.

Beth's dad narrowed his eyes, but he didn't look angry, He seemed almost thoughtful.

“Go on son, spit it out,” he told Daryl.

“Me and Beth, we've been seein' each other.”

“Seein' each other?”

“Daddy, Daryl's my boyfriend now.”

Daryl nodded at that. Beth waited for her father to scold her, lecture her, but he didn't.

“Do ya love her?” he asked Daryl.

Daryl looked down to where their fingers were laced together and then back up at Beth. He smiled at her and she felt like no matter what her father said, no matter what the others said, they were going to be ok.

“I do,” Daryl said, still looking at her.

Beth felt her cheeks turning pink and her heart fluttered wildly in her chest. Maggie was grinning at her from across the table and whispering something to Glenn that sounded like “I knew it!”

“And what about you, sweetie? Do you love him?” her father asked.

“Yeah, I do,” she said without hesitation.

“That's all that matters then. Take care of her, take care of my daughter. And you take care of him, Beth, he needs ya just as much as you need him. Take care of each other. That's all I want. That's all I can ask for. Be happy. There's not enough good left in this world, be the good for each other.”

Her dad was watching the two of them with a sad smile. The Thanksgiving dinner scene had faded away and it was just the three of them now. Beth felt tears welling up as she listened to him speak. She never thought she could miss someone so much while that person was sitting right next to her. She and Daryl promised her father that they would do all those things and a look of peace settled over the old man's face.

Beth was crying now, but she couldn't tell if they were tears of joy or ones of sorrow. Her dad faded away and Daryl wrapped his arms around her and cradled her against his chest as he wiped away her tears.

“It's ok, Beth, don't be sad. I love you,” he told her.

The world faded to darkness and she was lying awake in the cabin bed with tears streaming down her face. Daryl was sitting up in bed and she was in his arms. He had her face pressed against her chest as he rubbed her back and whispered words of comfort.

“You started cryin' in your sleep. I woke up and thought the roof was leakin',” he joked.

That made her smile a bit, but it didn't stop the flow of tears. She felt like her dad had been there with them and when she woke up she swore she could smell those root beer flavored hard candies he always liked to suck on after dinner. Everything he had said to them in the dream felt real to her.

“What were ya dreamin' about anyways?” Daryl asked.

“My dad,” she said hoarsely.

“Oh.”

“We were all at the farmhouse for Thanksgiving dinner, you, me, my dad, my mom, Maggie, Glenn, Rick, Michonne, Carl and Judith. We were gonna tell them finally.”

“Tell them what?”

Beth stopped. Embarrassment rushed over her. She hadn't thought this through. The dream seemed so lifelike that she had forgotten it wasn't real. They weren't together like that.

“In the dream, we were together. You were my boyfriend. We were gonna tell my dad.”

“And? Didn't turn out good?”

“Surprisingly, my dad was happy for us. He asked if ya lov—er--cared about me and ya said ya did and he asked me the same thing and I said I did and he said that was good enough for him and that he was happy for us.”

“Is that what we're gonna tell 'em when we find them, Rick, Maggie, Glenn, and all the others? That I'm your boyfriend?” Daryl asked after a long pause.

“Dunno, is it?” she asked quietly.

Neither of them seemed to know that answer to that question.

“We shouldn't worry about it. We got too many other things to do and 'sides we haven't even seen a sign of anyone from the group. We still got time to figure it out. We're not dead yet,” Beth added.

“What if we find them before we figure it out?”

“Then we'll tell them we're still figuring it out.”

“Are we?”

“What?”

“Still firgurin' it out?”

“No,” she said, changing her mind, “You're my boyfriend. I've decided.”

“Am I now? Don't remember ya runnin' this by me first.”

“Ya already said yes.”

“When?”

“In my dream.”

“Hmpf.”

Daryl didn't say anything further and she knew they wouldn't discuss it again. She wasn't even sure it needed discussing to begin with. Whatever they were, whatever he was to her, whether he was her boyfriend or something else, didn't need words to be put to it for it to work. It just worked. Maybe they wouldn't need to explain it to the group either, maybe when they found the others they would just see for themselves how her and Daryl's relationship worked and they'd just have to understand.

 


	26. Twenty Six

Beth was still asleep next to Daryl when the room began to lighten and his internal clock wouldn't allow him to sleep any longer. She was curled against his ribs and his arm and shoulder were supporting her head. Her arm was draped over his bare chest and her fingers were gripping his left shoulder tightly. The soft skin of her cheek was covering the scar on his chest that ran from his right shoulder and stopped just short of his breastbone. He sucked in a breath when his head was clear enough to realize this.

His stomach dipped like he was on a roller coaster when he remembered that last night had really happened. It wasn't a dream. Everything from being on the roof with her eating those damn apples and licking the juice off her chin to letting her undress him, to letting her touch his scars, to talking about them with her, talking about his dad and finally waking up with her crying on him to have her tell him that she had decided they were a couple now, that he was her boyfriend.

The moments that had occurred in the darkness when they came back inside to go to bed seemed particularly unreal to Daryl. Maybe it was because they had taken place in the dark, when he couldn't see her face, that they seemed so dreamlike.

Daryl didn't know how to process it all—or even if he should. They had so much work to do. He couldn't sit around all day thinking. Beth rubbed her cheek against his chest and scratched her nose in her sleep. Her hand flopped back down on his shoulder when she finished and she mumbled something. As she shifted, her breasts squished into Daryl's ribs and he was painfully reminded of the throbbing in the tight red boxers shorts. He knew he should untangle himself from her, get up, go into the bathroom and put some clothes on, but the warmth of the bed and the softness of Beth's skin against his was making it impossible.

Still, he kind of wanted to put a shirt on before she woke up. In the daylight there would be nothing to stop her from staring at his scars and even though she had seen them before and even though they had talked about them a little now, he wasn't ready to divulge anymore just yet. The door had been opened now, a door to the dark rabbit hole that was his past, but he wasn't sure he was ready to lead them, to lead her, deeper down into that shit hole. Last night had been a lot for him. He had never told anyone that story about his father beating him until he blacked out. With good reason too. Beth's reaction reminded him of why he didn't talk about it. He knew she couldn't help but feel sad for him and angry at his dad, but anger and sadness didn't help anything. They didn't change what had happened to him.

He would rather see Beth like she was last night on the roof, doubled over laughing at some stupid story he told about Merle. He would rather see her blushing, biting her lip, and twisting her fingers through her ponytail as they fed each other apple slices and licked each other's fingers clean. He'd rather see her passed out on his chest while he tried to teach her the locations of constellations. He'd rather see her in bed next to him telling him he's her boyfriend now because he already said yes in her dream.

It had been so strange to hear it said out loud, beautiful and terrifying at the same time, like the sound of a glass breaking. He wasn't sure it needed to be said, to be named. They were already playing it out, living it every day and they would have continued to do so even if a name was never put to the relationship they had. Their relationship still felt precarious to Daryl. He wondered if it always would. He still had the feeling she would eventually find another Zach or Jimmy once they met up with the group again. His stomach turned over at the thought of that and he was glad that they hadn't seen any sign of the others yet.

Beth rolled over in her sleep. She was now facing the window and Daryl had a clear view of her smooth back. He ran his fingers along her spine, exploring her back with his touch like she had done last night with his back. Her back was the complete opposite of his, soft, smooth, unmarred by raised skin and purple-gray stripes.

Daryl took this opportunity to wiggle his arm out from an under her neck and slip into the bathroom to take a piss. When he finished he stopped in front of the clothesline that was strung up in the back of the room. All their clothes were neatly pinned up, Beth's tank tops and his flannel shirts with the sleeves ripped off, Beth's tight skinny jeans and his ripped and faded jeans, Beth's tiny brightly colored panties and his threadbare plaid boxers which hung next to her pale pink bra. Her bra looked almost as worn and pitiful as his pair of boxers. At least they had a few more of each now. The boxer briefs from the wardrobe weren't so horrible, a little tight, but Daryl could put up with it. Beth had the bras from the car.

Daryl ripped a pair of his jeans and one of his button down shirts with the sleeves cut off down from the line and pulled them on.

“Daryl?” Beth called sleepily from the other room.

“Hey, 'bout time you woke up,” he said as he sat on the edge of the bed.

“Sorry, I just felt so drained after last night. Especially after that dream. I miss him—my dad,” she said quietly.

A pang of guilt shot through him. He guessed he was at least partially responsible for her being so drained. Maybe the burden of his past was too heavy for her, even in such a small dose.

Beth threw off the covers and climbed out of bed.

“It's freezin' in here.”

“Gonna have to start wearin' more clothes to bed, girl.”

“Or we could run the wood stove at night sometimes or even the fireplace.”

“Hmpf, I guess we ought to try it out one night,” Daryl said, nodding at the fireplace. They hadn't lit it once in their time at the cabin. The wood stove was usually enough to heat up the room for the night.

“If it's cold again tonight, we can light it for a bit. Dunno about leaving it on all night. Don't want to draw unwanted attention. We can bring down more blankets from upstairs.”

Somehow he felt like that wasn't going to happen. They hadn't seen anyone since the funeral home and walkers had been few and far between. Still, it was too dangerous to let their guard down. The last thing they needed was to be lying in bed in their underwear and have some asshole like the Governor come break down the door in the middle of the night.

Beth started the wood stove and then disappeared into the bathroom, remerging a few minutes later in her skinny jeans and a blue long sleeved flannel shirt. She took out a jar of peaches and they sat together on the couch this morning. They passed the jar back and forth. She ate most of them. His stomach felt like there was an oil slick sloshing around in it. Beth tilted her head back to finish the last of the juice and he watched as it ran down her chin. He wanted to lick it off again, but it seemed so much easier last night when it was dark, when he had some moonshine in him.

Beth noticed him staring and set the empty jar down on the floor. She wiped her face on the back of her sleeve and the moment was gone.

_Ya can't do anything right._

He shuddered and it had nothing to do with how cold it had gotten overnight. His hands were shaking again. Beth was watching him curiously. The room suddenly felt unbearably stuffy and hot and he needed to get the fuck out of there before he suffocated. He stood up and stumbled to where his boots were thrown in a jumble in front of the wardrobe. Beth was getting up too and slipping into her own boots.

He didn't remember her locking the door behind them or picking up the handsaw that was next to the fireplace. Her fingers were threaded through his. She stopped when they reached a grove of smaller, younger trees with thin trunks. She asked if these trees would be alright for making spikes and Daryl nodded.

The world was bright and blurry. The sun was burning his eyes. Sweat was forming under his arms and soaking his shirt. His leather vest felt ridiculously hot and heavy. He tore it off and threw it a few feet away from him like it was some kind of poisonous snake poised to bite him. Beth was hacking the branches off one of the trees with his hunting knife. Daryl swayed on his feet as he watched her. Beth was sawing the trunk of the little tree now. She tossed it to the ground and began cutting the one next to it.

Daryl was going in and out of consciousness. Blinding sunlight cut through waves of darkness. His back slammed into something hard. He realized the back of his shirt was drenched. His scars must be bleeding, he thought. Leaves and dirt scraped against his palms. Something nudged the toe of his boot. Merle stood before him.

“Whatcha doin' down there, Darylina?” Merle asked, laughing coldly, “Did your little song bird knock you on your ass?”

Daryl opened his mouth to shoot a smart ass remark at Merle, but it came out in a jumbled nonsensical mess.

“Don't think she was too impressed by all those marks on your back. Ya shoulda never showed her.”

“Shut up! You don't fucking know her!” Daryl roared.

He heard the saw clatter to the leaves and Beth spun around.

“Oh my god, Daryl, what the hell happened?!” she yelled.

Beth fell to her knees next to him and cupped his face in her hands. Her palms felt soothingly cold against his hot dry skin. He placed his hands over hers and pressed them deeper into his skin, trying to make them absorb all the heat from his body.

“Nothin', Beth. I'm fine,” he mumbled.

“You're burnin' up. You're not fine.”

She wrapped his arm around her neck and some how managed to pull him to his feet. Daryl didn't have any fucking clue how. His legs were shaking so bad he could barely walk. Luckily, they weren't far from the cabin. Beth struggled to hold him up right as she opened the door. He fell backwards over the arm of the couch as she bolted the door. She moved around by his feet, unlacing his boots and pulling them off.

Daryl sat up and started for the door again. They had too much work to get done to waste time lying around. He reached for his boots and damn near fell on his ass.

“Daryl!” Beth had returned from the bathroom carrying a sopping wet rag. She pushed him to the bed and stuck a thermometer in his mouth, “Jesus, Daryl,” she muttered as she looked at the thermometer.

“Ain't nothin',” he growled, getting to his feet again.

He swayed and had to grip onto her shoulders to keep himself from falling over. Her fingers fumbled with his belt buckle and his heartbeat sped up. She took off his belt and laid his knife on the night stand. Her fingers went back to the button on his jeans. His hands shot out and grabbed hers.

“Beth, we got too much work to do,” he growled at her.

“You're not gettin' anything done today. Ya can barely stand up.”

He grumbled something again, but his words came out like vomit and made no sense. His vision went in and out and he realized he was lying back on the bed with her pulling his jeans down over his ankles. She climbed on top of him, sitting on his hips as she undid the buttons on his shirt. He mumbled something again to stop her. He didn't want her to see his scars again, not like this, not in the bright daylight, but it was too late. She had his shirt open in a matter of seconds and was fighting to get his arms through the armholes.

Daryl didn't remember crawling under the covers, but he must have. Beth was forcing some pills into his mouth and pressing a bottle of water into his hands. He swallowed whatever she gave him and laid back down. Beth smoothed a wet cloth over his eyes and the world faded to black.

The smell of wood smoke filled his nose and made his eyes burn—a good kind of burning, a comforting kind. Somewhere in the dark forest the voice of an owl echoed, a thoughtful and gentle sound, different from the screaming cry of the screech owl the night his father beat him until he blacked out. Daryl stretched out on a pile of leaves, under the stars. He named them silently to himself, recalling what animal or shape or person each one was supposed to resemble.

Something warm stirred under his head and he looked up to see her leaning over him.

“How's your fever?” she asked.

“Fever? Didn't know I had one.”

He fingers brushed aside the lank greasy hair that hung there and pressed into his forehead. They were cold against his hot skin.

“Feels like it's goin' down a little,” she said her voice full of hope.

She was gone and he was lying on his back alone in the woods again. He climbed to his feet and started to look around for her. His fire had gone out. He shoved his way through the dark branches calling her name as twigs snapped beneath his boots, but there was no answer.

In the distance, he could see two little squares of light. He moved forward until he reached the house. Even in the dark he could make out the grimy white wooden siding that was stained green with mildew. Daryl climbed the creaky wooden steps and stood before the peeling brown door. His fingers trembled on the scratched bronze knob and the cracked panes of glass rattled as he pulled it open. His feet felt like they were glued to the porch. His stomach gave a violent surge and he could taste vomit in his mouth. No, no, he didn't want to go back in that house ever again, but she could be in there. What if his dad was in there with her?

“Beth?” he called in a loud whisper.

He stumbled forward into the dark house. His skin burned with an internal fire. His scars crackled and blistered under the fabric of his shirt. The walls seemed to be pulsating around him, pumping the air full of the smell of whisky, tobacco and rotting meat.

He felt his way down the wood paneled hallway, trying the light switches as he went, but none of them worked. The floor lurched and tilted under his feet. The smell of rot intensified as he neared the door to his bedroom. He carefully pushed the door open. Moonlight spilled in through the open window illuminating the stained gray carpet. Merle was bent over something on the floor. His back was to Daryl. Slimy chewing and slurping noises filled the endless silence.

Merle slowly turned to face him. His steel gray eyes shone like ice in the moonlight. His hands were bloody. Bits of flesh were stuck between his blood-stained teeth as he grinned at Daryl. He stretched out an arm. His hand was curled around some throbbing purple-red organ.

“Brought ya something, baby brother,” Merle laughed.

Behind him, the thing, the person, slumped on the floor gave a quiet little gasp and twitched. Pale slender fingers wrapped around Merle's forearm as she struggled to sit up.

“Easy, girl, don't tire yourself out,” Merle said over his shoulder.

“Beth?” Daryl breathed.

He shoved Merle aside.

“What did you do to her, ya bastard!?” he shot at Merle.

Merle just laughed coldly and stepped to the side of the room.

Her pink tank top was drenched in blood. Her eyes were glazed over and empty. Her arm shot out towards him.

Daryl sat up in bed panting. The room was spinning. It was unbearably hot and there was no way they could open a window. He heard the sounds of boots scraping on the porch and quiet humming. His heart rate slowed at the sound of it. He reached for the bottle of water on the night stand and it crashed to the floor, breaking open.

“Shit,” he grumbled, falling back onto the pillow.

“Daryl?” Beth called as she pushed open the front door.

She smiled when she saw he was awake. She picked up the plastic bottle and disappeared into the bathroom. He heard the sounds of the water pump and when she returned the bottle was full again.

“Feelin' any better?” she asked, as he drank greedily from the bottle.

His mouth felt like sand.

“I'm fine, Beth, jus' hot in here.”

Her fingers brushed against his forehead and she scrunched up her face.

“You're still runnin' a fever,” she sighed, “C'mon.”

Beth threw back the covers and Daryl found himself trying to cover himself, but she wasn't looking at him. She was dragging him out of bed and to the bathroom.

“What time is it? How long was I sleepin'?” Daryl grumbled.

It was much darker in the cabin than it was when she had brought him back this morning. Beth had even lit a candle in the bathroom so they could see.

“Dunno, early evening? Maybe seven or eight o'clock.”

“What the hell have you been doin' all this time?”

“I'll show ya later, if ya do what I say and we get this fever down,” she told him, “Get in.”

She nodded over her shoulder at the tub. Daryl hesitated. He wanted to just go back in the other room and pass out.

“It's already filled. Don't worry it's not hot water and it's not ice cold.”

She turned around and he climbed the stairs and slipped into the bath. He shivered. The water was barely lukewarm. It felt good on his skin though, especially on his back. He sank deeper into the water.

“Just sit in there for awhile,” she said gently.

“Beth, wait, where ya goin'?”

“Gotta finish up outside and check on dinner.”

“What are ya doin' outside?”

“I'll show ya tomorrow.”

She threw open the bathroom door.

“Hey, wait--”

“Don't worry, I'll be back to check on ya in a bit,” she giggled, pulling the door shut behind her.

He wished she would have left it open. It was so damn hot in the cabin. He wondered what the hell she was doing out there on the porch. She had been cutting down small trees earlier so they could make spikes to put around the cabin, but surely she couldn't have dragged all that wood back by herself and while fending off walkers at the same time. She should have waited another day until he was up and able to help her.

The smell of something simmering wafted through the door and his stomach growled. He hadn't eaten in hours and he had felt too sick then to each much. Hopefully this damn fever was going away. He must have gotten sick from staying outside so long last night while Beth slept on him. It did get damn cold last night. That was the only explanation.

He sank down deeper into the water, shivering and shaking. He found himself going in and out of sleep. Every time his face hit the water he would be jolted awake again.

There was a thump as Beth bolted the front door and he sat up straight in the water. She hummed as she crossed the room and he heard the clanking of metal against metal as she stirred whatever it was they were having for dinner.

_You're useless. Have to do everything myself around here._

The hunger disappeared and was replaced with nausea. Daryl's head smacked against the back of the tub as he tipped his head back with a little more force than he meant to.

“Hey, feelin' any better yet?” Beth said quietly from the doorway.

“A little. You done outside?”

“Yeah. Wait until ya see it.”

Her face and hair were matted with dirt and her shirt was stained with what looked to be dried walker blood. The sight of her made Daryl feel guilty. He stared down into the dark water instead. The stairs creaked and suddenly she was climbing into the bath with him. He moved his legs to one side to make room for her, but he didn't look up as she slid into the water across from him.

She picked up one of the rags and started to clean herself. She hadn't bothered with the yellow bikini this time and the longer he stared at her the faster the blood was rushing south and the more his dick was straining at the wet cloth of his boxers.

Daryl wished he could feel as comfortable as she did. She had scars too, even though they weren't like his, and insecurities as well, but she never let them stop her from just stripping down while he was in the room, didn't stop her from sleeping half naked, didn't stop her from climbing naked into the bath with him. He tried to remember if she was always like that, so open. They never had much privacy after the farm and at the prison, but there were still ways to avoid dressing in front of everyone. She had relied on the women then, Maggie, Lori, Carol, to watch her back while she took a piss, bathed, or changed her clothes. She never had a reason to undress in his presence or that of Rick's or Glenn's or any of the other guys'.

Beth had stopped cleaning and draped the rag over the side of the tub. She was looking at the inside of her wrist now and swiping her fingers over it repeatedly like she was trying to scrub away some dirt. Daryl shifted and squeezed in next to her to see what she was looking at.

A little pink raised line grinned at him from the inside of her wrist. He pressed his thumb over it as if he could make it disappear back into her skin. He remembered his own attempt all those years ago. Another thing they had in common--failed, half-assed suicide attempts.

“I miss them. Lori and Andrea. Especially Andrea. They were there that day. My sister was so pissed when she found out that Andrea left me alone, but I'm so glad she did. I'm glad she gave me the choice when no one else would. I never got to thank her for that. Tell her how much that meant to me.”

“I'm sure she knew.”

“I wish we coulda done something for her and for your brother.”

“Me too,” he muttered.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. Daryl's head was starting to feel a bit more normal and he didn't feel as hot. Beth was still picking at her scar next to him.

“Did ya really think it was that hopeless that day?” he asked her.

“Did you when you tried?”

He grunted and nodded. Why would anyone unless they really thought there was no better way out?

“Do ya regret it now?” he asked.

“No. I didn't know then if I wanted to live. I think it was the only way I could know. It was the same for you wasn't it? After your overdose? You quit cause you didn't want to die anymore. What changed your mind?”

“Dunno. Fear, I guess. It was easier to keep on going the way I had than jump head first into the unknown,” he paused and sucked in a breath, not sure if he wanted to tell her the next part, but he did anyways, “When I was goin' in and out of consciousness, I saw my dad standing over the hospital bed. I knew he was waitin' for me.”

She stayed silent again and Daryl realized he was tracing the line on her wrist over and over.

“Same for you?” he asked.

“The fear part? Yeah,” she said quietly. She pulled her hand away and brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them.

Daryl felt guilty again. He remembered that day on the farm. He had moved his tent as far away from the others as possible after that day Sophia came out of the barn. He was sick of those people, especially Carol. He was disgusted by the fact that she didn't even want to go to the funeral. He barely knew Beth or Maggie or even Hershel then. He avoided the farmhouse as much as possible. Almost everyone else in their group had gone to see how Beth was doing after her incident, but Daryl had stayed away. It wasn't his problem as far as he was concerned.

“Sorry. Sorry I didn't come see ya after,” he nodded at her wrist.

She shivered against him and he could see goosebumps creeping along her skin.

“Ya said that in my dream a few nights ago.”

“Hmpf. Did I?”

She nodded and silence fell over them again.

“I'm not mad at ya for not comin' to see me. We hardly knew each other then. 'Sides, you had other things to worry about.”

He grunted and slung his arm around her shoulders as if that could make up for him not visiting her. She leaned closer and pressed her forehead against his jaw.

“Your face feels cooler. Maybe your fever's going away now.”

She pulled away from him gently and stood up. It took all his willpower to keep his eyes turned down. He supposed he could look, after all she was his girlfriend now, but it didn't feel right. He waited until she had toweled off and pulled on her nightgown before he got of the water.

The room was no longer spinning and his scars no longer felt like they were on fire. He could hear Beth in the other room fiddling around with the plastic dishes and silverware. He peeled off the wet boxers and put on the pair he had left the prison with. He pulled on the black sweatpants and one of the t-shirts. The t-shirt was stained badly and almost worn through in a few spots. He guessed Beth had tried her hardest to scrub the stains out.

He came out of the bathroom to see two bowls steaming on the counter and Beth on her hands and knees in front of the fireplace. She had brought down some firewood and was trying to get it lit. While she was distracted, he crept up onto the roof to retrieve the dreamcatcher he had forgotten to give her last night. Outside, the sun had gone down and the temperature had fallen. Daryl folded up the blanket tucking the dreamcatcher into it.

He was going to give it to her last night, but she had fallen asleep before he could and by the time they went back inside, he was too tired and cold to think about it. He leaned over the railing and peered down into the dark yard. He could just make out four or five sharpened tree trunks under each of the windows on the side of the cabin. So he was right. That was what she was up to all day. One more thing to cross off their to-do list. He supposed now they could really focus on her training, maybe do another run, a run to look for signs of the others, since they weren't really lacking on supplies. Maybe a scouting mission. They didn't need supplies now, but they would eventually and it would be good to know what was in the area and make sure they were really as alone as they felt out in the woods.

When he returned back inside, Beth had gotten the fireplace lit. She had put out all the candles. The light from the fire was enough to illuminate almost half the room. He sat next to her on the shabby little couch and she pressed a bowl into his hands.

“It's turkey noodle soup. I used some of the turkey from yesterday and I found a jar of macaroni noodles in the cupboard. The veggies are just canned ones, but I put some spices in so hopefully it'll taste good and hopefully it'll make ya feel better. I know it's not chicken soup, but I guess it's close enough.”

The soup was salty and briny, but he preferred that to the bland chicken in a can they ate for breakfast yesterday. He was starving and finished the bowl after a few minutes.

“Guess it's not too bad,” Beth said with a smile.

“Why would it be bad? You made it.”

She blushed at that and finished her own bowl. She took his empty bowl and sat it down on the floor with hers. Daryl reached into the blanket and pulled out the dreamcatcher.

“Got somethin' for ya,” he mumbled, pushing it into her hands.

“A dreamcatcher? Where'd ya find it?”

“Upstairs. There was a whole box of photo albums and stuff. It was in there.”

“Photo albums?”

“Yeah of the people that lived here. There's one with all their weddin' pictures in it.”

“I'd like to look at them sometime.” Her voice sounded sad. Her fingers lightly travelled the distance of the of the outer ring and then down over the feathers.

Daryl watched her face carefully as the orange-red light flickered across it. The corners of her lips curved into a smile and she whispered a thank you before setting the dreamcatcher on the couch next to her and climbing into his lap.

She put her arms around neck. He could feel the heat of her through his pants. His hands fisted in the fabric at her hips. His instinct was to move her off his lap. He still felt lightheaded even though he was sure his fever had passed by now. She pressed the back of her hand to his forehead.

“Ya don't feel hot anymore,” she told him, “You feelin' better now?”

“Yeah. Dunno what came over me earlier.”

“Good, I'm glad. Cause I been thinking about this all day.”

“Thinkin' about what all--” he started.

Her eyes fluttered closed and her lips covered his. He groaned against her lips and kissed back, following her lead again. She started off slow, teasing almost, pulling back every few seconds before going back in and sometimes nipping at his bottom lip. After a bit, she stopped pulling away and parted her lips more and he did the same for her. All the sudden he could taste her, that salty briny flavor from the soup broth. Her tongue was in his mouth, sliding against his. He was suddenly aware that she was rolling her hips over his and that he was pressing her hips down into his lap.

They pulled apart gasping for air. She was smiling. Her skin was glowing, but not in the pale way it shone in the moonlight, but shining like a candle, red-orange, yellow, burning hot colors, like that morning after they burned the moonshine shack, that night he chased her and caught up to her in that field as the sun was rising. He was afraid to touch her then and that same fear shot through him again. He dug his fingers into her waist and lifted her onto the couch next to him, but she wouldn't let go of him. Her hands were tangled in his t-shirt and she pulled him on top of her with such strength—when the hell did she get so strong? Her legs wrapped around his hips and her nightgown slid down exposing her panties and stomach. He thrust against her as he kissed her again. She was making him drunk again and it was getting hard to stop.

“Beth,” he groaned, somewhere in between a warning and plea.

She seemed to understand and her legs slid down off his back and she tugged the hem of her nightgown down. He collapsed on top of her, laying his head against her breasts so he could hear her heart racing every bit as fast as his.

“Daryl?”

“Hmm?”

“You're crushing me.”

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

Daryl sat up and switched places with her so she was laying on top of him. Now she was listening to how fast his heart was racing. He tightened his arms around her back and shut his eyes, trying to focus his mind elsewhere. He went over a list of things they could look for on a run over and over in his head until he fell asleep.

A few weeks passed, maybe a month. Daryl wasn't entirely sure. The weather had turned cold and during the day the temperature rarely got above 50 degrees. He guessed it was likely some time in November. They had no calendar to go by and neither of them had been keeping track of the days since they arrived at the cabin or since they left the prison.

All the fortifications had been finished on the cabin. They had placed the spikes Beth sharpened from tree trunks under each window and around the steps leading up to the front porch. They had created an expansive alarm system that ringed the entire cabin. So far everything had worked perfectly and they only saw the occasional walker. It made Daryl optimistic that they might pass the winter without seeing a herd.

The cabin's food supplies were starting to dwindle, but they had been supplementing them with food they hunted, mostly rabbits so far. They hadn't seen another turkey since the day Beth shot the one and Daryl didn't mind that. It was a lot of work to prep, cook, and then try to can the rest of the meat. It was easier to just to pan fry up a rabbit, eat it all in one night and be done with it.

He was still taking Beth out everyday to work on her tracking and hunting skills. Her aim was getting better, but she still faltered sometimes when she let her nerves get the best of her. Tracking was improving her attention to detail and making her more aware of the world around her. She was getting good at spotting tiny things, a few strands of fur hanging from a spiderweb, a torn piece of cloth snagged on a branch. He had been teaching her how to identify the best places to look for game and how to find sources of water which would draw animals. He pushed her to try again when she failed to identify the age of a set of tracks or when her arrow grazed off the hind leg of a rabbit. She got frustrated and pissed off sometimes, but he didn't let up because he knew she could do this.

Daryl didn't take it easy on her either when they practiced fighting. He pinned her arms to her chest and held a knife to her throat like Gorman had. He let her stomp on his foot and elbow him in the nose. He let her hit him hard and give him bruises because she needed to know how much force to apply. He also tried to stand back as much as possible when she was fighting walkers. He was always there though, his knife out and ready incase she needed him. He wouldn't allow her to get bit. The fighting lessons were teaching her how to better maneuver her body when taking on more than one walker.

Daryl watched her from in between the trees as she struggled against three walkers. Silver flashed as she brought her left arm up under one of the walkers' jaws. It slammed her body back against a tree. She brought her other arm up and stabbed it through the eye. She used all of her weight to push the corpse into the arms of the second walker while she spun around to face the third walker which was crawling across the grass towards her. She had broken its leg early in the fight, just like he had taught her. She drove her sword through the top of its skull.

The second walker had untangled itself from the corpse and was coming at Beth again. The weight of it slamming into her knocked her to the ground. She had managed to keep hold of both her swords. The walker was laying on top of her. Beth used her left forearm to shield her face from its gnashing teeth. Daryl moved forward now, knife raised. The walker bit down into the sleeve of her jacket as Beth fought to untangle her other arm from its fingers so she could bring her sword up and kill it. Daryl's heart stopped. Fear turned his skin to ice. He felt the air being sucked out of his lungs. He brought his knife down through the back of the walker's skull at the same time Beth managed to stab her sword in through the side of its head.

“I had it!” she yelled.

Daryl shoved the walker off her and pulled her to her feet faster and harder than he meant to. Her shoulder gave a pop. He tore down the zipper of the ugly tan jacket she was wearing and ripped it off her body. He grabbed her left arm and turned it over in his hands, expecting to be greeted by red blood running over her pale skin.

“I'm fine,” she said quietly, “The duct tape we put on the sleeves of the jacket worked, see?”

He could feel her pulse racing from where he had his thumb pressed into her wrist.

“Ya gotta be more careful. Ya won't always be wearin' that jacket.”

The anxiety was slowly leaving him, but his heart was still racing in his chest. He threw his arms around her shoulders and held her. The wind rustled the dry leaves that still clung stubbornly to their branches. Beth shivered against him and he could feel goosebumps forming on her bare arms. He bent over and scooped up her jacket, draping it gently over her shoulders.

Daryl's eyes went to her lips and he felt the familiar uncertainty that had been nagging him over the past month, ever since the night she had said he was her boyfriend. She initiated almost all of their kisses. He wanted to, but he didn't know the rules. She did. He didn't know when it was alright and when it wasn't. He didn't know what kind of touching was fine and how much. So he let her guide him every night when they sat on the couch after dinner in front of the fire and made out for an hour or so before bed which was probably completely ridiculous given that she was so much younger than him and less sexually experienced from what he gathered.

Daryl quickly learned that he had more self-control than Beth. It was hard as fuck to get her to stop or slow down when she climbed into his lap, so he didn't let that happen anymore. He tried a couple different ways of holding her when they were kissing on the couch, all of which were some variation of them sitting side by side and not on top of each other. She seemed to like those well enough. Daryl also made sure when he held her at night that he kept his hips away from her and he tried to wake up before her so he had time to focus his mind and get his morning wood to go away. And that's how thus far Daryl had prevented their relationship from going any further. He still hadn't decided if this was a good or a bad thing yet, but it made him feel responsible and like he was being a good guardian for Beth.

During the day, Daryl attempted to keep the two of them as busy as possible and there was plenty of work to be done. Everyday he made them walk a few miles, pinning colored rags with their initials written on them to trees. Beth had come up with the idea. If their group was out there, one of them was likely to come across one of the rags and work out what it meant. There was also tons of training to do. He was even making Beth lift weights they found in a box upstairs. Daryl worked them so hard that by the time they collapsed onto the bed at night, they were out in a matter of seconds.

Daryl had hung the dreamcatcher on a nail over the bed, but it didn't completely get rid of their nightmares. Beth seemed to benefit the most from it. She had only woken him up a few times with her nightmares and none of them had been as bad as the one she had a few weeks ago where she woke up crying and saying Maggie was dead. His own dreams had become more unsettling. He continued to have dreams about his father, at least two or three a week. He felt like he was reliving his childhood in some of them and woke up gasping and panting.

He hadn't talked to Beth much about them, but she seemed to understand that when he sat up in bed like that and went into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, that he was dreaming about his dad. She never asked him to talk about them and for that he was both grateful and a bit disappointed, because for the first time ever he was starting to think it might not be such a bad thing to share more of what happened to him. He couldn't decide and she didn't seem to want to decide for him, even though he kind of wished she would.

“Hey,” Beth said, snapping him out of his thoughts, “I'm ok. I did it. I killed them. The jacket worked.” She repeated it over like a mantra.

“So ya did.”

Her face and hair was stained with black blood. He took the rag out of his back pocket and wiped as much of it off her face as he could. He stared at her lips even though he could feel her eyes on his face. He watched the little lines and the corners of them trying to read them like they were tracks on the ground, trying to figure out the signs, feel the air and determine if the moment was right. He ran the rag under her chin, tilting her head up. He leaned in slowly, testing the waters carefully.

The sharp point of her sword jabbed the soft flesh under his jaw. She smiled at him and shook her head. She had that wild look again. She was playing with him the way a cat plays with a dead chipmunk. He swung his arm up, trying to hit her wrist hard enough to make her drop the sword, but she was quick. Her fingers snapped around his wrist and pushed it down with what must have been all her strength. And she was strong now. He'd made sure of that by having her lift weights and do push ups everyday. He flexed the muscles in his arm trying to push up. Her arm shook as she fought against it. He relaxed and let her shove his hand down. She lowered her sword.

“Don't think ya earned that kiss, Mr. Dixon. I'm the one who got my hands dirty today.”

Daryl thought about asking what he had to do to earn it, but he already knew what she was going to do. He could sense her joints turning, her weight shifting, the muscles in her legs loading themselves like springs. Before she could do it, he threw his arms around her as she turned to run, pinning her arms to her sides, lifting her off the ground. Her boots kicked against his shins, hard, and he knew he was going to have more bruises. She bent her neck, teeth gnashing at his arms, but her teeth wouldn't pierce the thick coarse fabric of his jacket. She squirmed against him, but he only tightened his hold on her. Her fingers curled at the hem of his jacket and shirt lifting them. As hard as she could, she dug her nails into the skin on his hip. It tickled and hurt at the same time and was enough to get him to loosen his grip and lower her to the ground. She stomped down on the arch of his foot and shoved herself off him, breaking into a run.

“Damn it, Beth!” he yelled after her, his foot ringing with pain.

Beth was sprinting across the dry field back into the forest towards the cabin. He followed her limping a little, but his desire to catch her overrode the pain in his foot. Once he got into the forest, he realized he couldn't hear the sounds of her footfalls anymore. He stood still listening for the tiniest movement, the rustle of her jacket, the slight whisper of her breath stirring a strand of hair that had come loose from her ponytail. Nothing. He took off sprinting again. Something caught his ankle and he tumbled to the ground. Pain shot through his legs and his chest as he fell. He rolled over onto his back, panting.

Beth was now standing over him. She sat down on his stomach, leaned over him and pinned his hands above his head.

“Looks like I caught you this time,” she laughed.

“Hmpf. Only cause ya fought dirty.”

Daryl knew he could throw his weight and roll her off of him and pin her, and he should, to teach her a lesson, but he didn't. The tip of her nose touched his cheek and her chin brushed against the stubble under his lips. Her lips pressed into his and moved in that slow, careful way and he kissed her back following her lead even though he wanted to deepen the kiss. Her fingers loosened around his wrists and she allowed him to bring his hands up around her back and sit up with her sitting on his thighs. The kiss broke for a second, but he closed the distance again, this time deepening the kiss a little. Her lips parted slightly for him and she let his tongue slide across the inside of her bottom lip.

Beth pulled away very slowly, reluctantly. Her breath turned to mist in the cool air.

“We should do this more often,” she said.

“Do what?”

“This,” she said, taking a deep breath and kissing him again.

“Why didn't ya say somethin' before now?” he asked when she pulled away again.

“Dunno. Guess we've just been so busy workin' on the defenses at the cabin and teachin' me how to fight.”

“Coulda made some time for it.”

She hesitated, looking down and picking at one of the buttons on his shirt, “Didn't know if ya wanted to.”

“I didn't know if you wanted to,” he grumbled.

“Well now ya know.”

Daryl felt some of his anxiety ease up at this, but most of it still remained. He wasn't good at this. It didn't come naturally for him. He felt awkward about just kissing her whenever. He still was going to have trouble initiating kisses and she was probably going to be disappointed. He picked at a thread that was unraveling from a hole in the thigh of her jeans.

“I've been thinkin', I'm ready. We should do another run. We should go back to that town and see if there's been any response to the message I wrote on the mirror. Then we should go out farther. Maybe be out there for a couple nights,” Beth said.

This had also been on Daryl's mind the past week. She was right. She was ready. It was still dangerous as fuck though going out there just the two of them. He knew there was another town five or ten miles east of the one that they had gone to on their first run. They would need to find a car and some gas to get there.

He nodded at her and her face lit up. Beth liked being out here as much as he did. He was glad they had the cabin for safety, warmth, and a roof over their heads, but he didn't want to, or know how to, sit around playing house and he was glad that she seemed to feel the same way.

When they got back, Beth decided she wanted a bath after rolling around in the mud all day with walkers. She closed the bathroom door after they ate dinner. She left it open a crack like she always did and he sat up on the counter with the map over his lap, planning out their route as well as a few back up routes incase the road was impassible or overrun. He hoped they could find a car in the little town or at least close by. They wouldn't need much gas, just enough to get ten miles or so.

He hopped off the counter and took the black backpack out of the wardrobe. He filled it with a few cans of food, the first aid kit, a blanket, and a small tarp. He wanted to leave room for anything they might scavenge.

Beth joined him on the couch after she was done in the bath. She sat next to him brushing out her hair. It looked painful to Daryl, the way her face was all scrunched up as she yanked the brush through the knots in her hair. She leaned in closer to look at the map and his nose filled with the scent of lavender soap.

“Hey, look, the ocean's not far,” she said, dragging her finger across the map to where it turned a pale blue.

“So?”

“Have ya ever seen it?”

“No. Why do I need to?”

She shrugged, “Guess ya don't.”

“Have you?”

“No. Maggie was supposed to take me once, but she had a hangover that day.”

“I dunno if we should risk goin' out that far.”

“C'mon. You've never been. I've never been. It'll be like a vacation. So you can cross two things off your list of never have I's.”

“We'll see. I ain't promising nothin'.”

“Not like there's much else to do these days. Just cause the world's ended doesn't mean we have to stop livin'.”

Daryl tucked the map into the backpack and wrapped his arm around Beth. She tilted his jaw down towards her and kissed him. He had one hand fisted in her hair and the other on the small of her back. He didn't try to move them. She had one hand on his face and her other hand dangerously close to his dick. He let her keep it there for a few more minutes before he slid his hand off her back and grabbed her wrist. She pulled back.

"We should get to bed. Gonna wake ya before dawn," he said panting lightly.

She nodded, but he could tell she was slightly disappointed. He put out the candles and felt around in the dark for her. Her hands reached out for him and he picked her up and carried her to the bed. His arm shook as he transferred most of Beth's weight to it so he could throw back the covers with his other one. He sat her down and crawled in after her. The covers shifted next to him as Beth moved closer and put her head on his shoulder. She sang for awhile, but quickly stopped and her breathing became slow gentle waves rolling across his chest.

 


	27. Twenty Seven

Beth was dreaming again in the early hours before dawn. When her body had drifted apart from Daryl's in the bed after the first couple hours of sleep, when the sound of his breathing in her ear no longer drowned out the movie screen in her brain, that was when she dreamed the most.

She was shivering on a street that was pitch black outside of the bubble of light that the flashing marquee overhead provided. Daryl took off his leather jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders. She smiled and thanked him, hesitant to kiss him because Glenn, Maggie, and Carl were standing across from them. The three of them were still getting used to the fact that she and Daryl were in a relationship now and they all had mixed feelings about it.

Maggie was wary and overprotective even though she respected Daryl. Carl was just overprotective which was kind of annoying since he was a few years younger than she was and he was also a little jealous since he still had a crush on her. Glenn was the only one who didn't really seem to give a damn. He would sometimes pretend though to make Maggie happy.

Daryl shifted uncomfortably and took out a cigarette.

“That movie was so lame,” Glenn groaned.

“I know, right. It's like the writers never even read the comic books,” Carl agreed.

Maggie just shook her head as the two continued to complain about whatever movie they had just watched. Beth struggled to remember. Some superhero movie maybe, the latest Batman or Spiderman she guessed. She glanced behind her, trying to read the marquee, but it was blank. The wind blew leaves and bits of old newspapers down the sidewalk. Beth drew the smoky leather jacket closer to her body. She probably should have worn something warmer than a short shirt and a tank top that showed her stomach. She liked the way he looked at her though in this outfit, liked the way his eyes felt on her naked skin.

Daryl wound his arm under the jacket and around her waist, resting his hand on the soft skin there. Maggie shot them a suspicious glare. Glenn and Carl had stopped talking amongst themselves and were staring at Daryl and Beth.

“I bet he still hasn't said it yet,” Glenn smirked.

“Said what?” Beth asked, looking at Daryl who looked as confused as she was.

“Yeah, said what, Glenn?” Carl joined them in their confusion.

“You two are so clueless when it comes to this stuff,” Glenn sighed.

“Hey you were pretty clueless yourself back in the day,” Maggie teased, nudging Glenn with her elbow.

“What I meant is, I bet Daryl still hasn't said the 'L' word,” Glenn said.

Beth and Daryl looked at each other again. His face was turning red, but she just smiled up at him. She knew he loved her and she was pretty sure he knew that she felt the same about him. They hadn't felt the need to say the word thus far. It was an unspoken agreement between the two of them.

“Stop it, Glenn, you're embarrassing them,” Carl said.

“Ok, ok. I won't push it anymore, but Daryl, you should say it to her sometime. It wouldn't kill you to,” Glenn said.

Daryl grunted in response and took another drag on his cigarette.

“We should get goin'. Rick wants us to have Carl back before midnight and we haven't even gotten dinner yet,” Maggie said, breaking the awkward stares that were passing between Daryl and Glenn.

Glenn shook his head and nodded in agreement.

“Hey, Beth, Daryl, we're gonna go get a pizza, you guys wanna come?” Glenn asked.

Beth and Daryl looked at each other. Without thinking, she flicked her tongue across her bottom lip. Daryl noticed and she knew they had come to an unspoken agreement on the matter.

“No thanks,” Daryl muttered.

“Why not? Got other plans or somethin'?” Maggie said, narrowing her eyes at them.

“We, I—um,” Daryl mumbled, reaching for an excuse.

“I've got an exam tomorrow,” Beth lied.

“Well then, how about you, Daryl? You can still come with us,” Maggie said.

“Yeah! Daryl, come with us!” Carl begged, “The pizza place Glenn found has eight different kinds of pepperoni! You don't wanna miss that!”

“Nah, I'm gonna drive Beth home, then I'm goin' home. Merle's out drinking right now and I should be there incase he calls and needs a ride,” Daryl lied.

“Aww come on, guys. This place was just featured on that show on Food Network and the Yelp reviews are outta this world. The lowest review for it was four stars and that was only because the waitress forgot to bring the person a coaster for their beer,” Glenn whined.

“Yeah, well, the last place you said that about wasn't nothin' special,” Daryl grumbled, “Best fried chicken on the planet, my ass.”

“Sounds nice, Glenn, but I need to study. I didn't do so well on my last exam,” Beth told him.

Beth tried not to smile. She tried to keep her expression blank, maybe even a bit disappointed. Maggie sighed and looked to Glenn for support, but he just shrugged.

“Suit yourselves. You don't know what you're missing. This going to be the best pizza on the planet. Anyways, glad you guys could make it tonight. This was, uh, fun,” Glenn said.

“Thanks for invitin' us,” Daryl said, flicking what was left of his cigarette into the street.

“Hey, Beth, are ya still gonna help me pick out somethin' cool to wear for next Saturday?” Carl asked.

“Yeah, sure. Do ya want me to pick ya up or is your dad gonna drop ya off at the farm?” she asked.

“Uh, can you pick me up?” Carl asked.

“Of course. I'll see ya around noon on Friday.”

“Cool.”

Carl was blushing now. She shook her head. He had some school dance or group date that was going on next weekend and had asked Beth to help him pick out something to wear and asked her for advice on talking to girls. He was fifteen and still completely clueless when it came to the opposite sex. Beth supposed she could give him some tips, the way Maggie had given her some when she was Carl's age. Maybe Carl would find a girlfriend and stop lusting after her, although she found all the attention and thinly veiled jealousy kind of endearing. Daryl wasn't bothered by it either. He thought it was hilarious and he didn't feel in any way threatened by Carl.

“Be safe. Remember ya don't have to do anything you're not ready to do,” Maggie whispered in Beth's ear as she pulled her in for a hug.

“I know. Jeez, Maggie,” she grumbled.

Daryl and Glenn slapped their palms together and Daryl pulled the shorter man in for a one armed hug. Beth hugged Glenn and then Carl who slid his hand under her jacket and quickly brushed it over the bare skin on her back.

Daryl's hand closed around hers and he was leading her up the dark street. Beth shot a long glance over her shoulder at where Maggie, Glenn, and Carl still stood bathed in the light from the theater. Glenn was laughing at something Carl said. Carl had a smartphone out and looked like he was engaged in some game. Maggie stared after Beth and Daryl, her brow furrowed in worry and fear. A sad longing came over her and she had the urge to run back there and throw her arms around Maggie one last time. The rumble of Daryl's bike exploded, shattering the quiet of the night into a thousand bits. Beth looked back again. The light was out. They were gone. She felt a twinge of regret for not going with them, for not spending just a few more hours with them.

“C'mon, get on,” Daryl told her.

He was already seated and was balancing the bike. Beth hiked up her skirt and climbed on behind him. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, leaning her body against his back and breathing in the woodsy, smoky smell of him. She hoped he wasn't taking her home. They were headed that way, but they passed the road that led to the farm. She thought maybe he was taking her to his and Merle's place, but they drove past that road too. She started nodding off against the warmth of his back with her hands fisted in his button down shirt.

The sudden silence snapped her awake and Daryl was helping her over the side of the bike. He had a blanket under one arm and a jar of moonshine in the other. They were standing in front of an empty field. The stars spilled across a black sky that stretched on forever above their heads. Daryl led her out to the middle of the grass and together they laid down on the blanket.

“Do ya remember the constellations I taught ya?” he asked, as they laid side by side sharing a cigarette.

“Yeah,” she said with a smile as she brought the cigarette to her lips. It was slightly damp from his mouth. She inhaled deeply, pretending she was breathing him in.

“Tell me,” he demanded, taking the cigarette back.

“What do I get if I do?”

Daryl turned his head to look at her. He stretched his arm across the blanket and ran his thumb over her lips.

“It's a surprise.”

She pointed out all the ones she remembered, Orion, Pisces, Capricornus, Cassiopeia, Ursa Major, Ursa Minor, and a few others. He took a long swig of moonshine and then passed the jar to her. She took as long of a drink as she could stand.

“Do I get my prize?”

“Lay down. I'll teach ya what I know,” he growled.

She laid back down and he pinned under his body. She could smell the alcohol on his breath as he leaned in and then she could taste it as he kissed her deeply. He was pressing his hips into hers. She wrapped her legs around his back. His fingers traced up her thighs until they found the elastic sides of her panties. He yanked them down over her thighs.

“Daryl,” she breathed.

He pulled back and looked at her.

“Beth? What are ya doing?” he suddenly looked confused.

He was shaking her shoulders. She opened her eyes and looked around. The first light of dawn was starting to peek through the boards on the window next to the bed. Daryl was sitting up in bed next to her.

“You were moaning in your sleep. Nightmare?” he asked.

She shook her head and blushed. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“No. It was a good dream.”

“Sorry for wakin' ya then.”

“No, it's ok. It was _too_ good of a dream. Is it time to leave for the run yet?”

“Not yet. Ya can get a little more sleep if ya want,” he said, laying back down.

Beth was still wound up from the dream. Her panties were wet. She turned onto her side and threw her leg over his. She slid her hand down over her stomach and past the lace waistband of her panties. Her knuckles bumped against his thigh and he turned onto his side to face her, lifting the cover and peeking under as he did.

“Beth,” his voice had that warning tone to it.

She muttered an apology and slowly pulled her hand back out of her panties. Daryl wrapped his arm around her ribs and pulled her against his chest. To make things worse, his hips pushed against hers and he she could feel he was hard through the thin fabric of his pants. She threw her leg over his hip and rubbed against him. The pressure felt amazing and she wanted more. He grabbed her shoulders and gently pushed her back. He rolled over and threw his legs over the side of the bed.

“Should get goin' soon,” he muttered just before he disappeared into the bathroom.

Beth flopped onto her back, feeling frustrated. She could hear the sound of the water pump in the bathroom. Three or four weeks of not much else but kissing every night in front of the fireplace. She was glad for it. She liked kissing him, but it was so hard to control herself. How he managed to control himself, she had no clue. He must have the discipline of a monk or a knight or saint.

She didn't know if she had time to get herself off before he came back out of the bathroom, so she threw off the covers and stripped off her clothes in front of the wardrobe and pulled on clean panties, a pair of jeans, and a long sleeved shirt. She layered the ugly tan jacket with duct taped sleeves over the top of everything. Beth tightened her belt and tucked her swords on either side.

Daryl had remerged from the bathroom, fully dressed. He took out the last jar of peaches they had and they sat together on the couch, huddled against each other for warmth since they weren't going to turn on the wood stove this morning. Beth hoped they could find more peaches. They were her favorite, although the spiced apples were a close second and they still had a jar or two of those.

A bit of juice dripped down Daryl's chin. Beth brushed her hand over it and licked it off her thumb. He looked at her and smiled. She loved his smiles. They were fleeting, but intense, like an afternoon rainstorm that popped up seemingly out of nowhere and was gone within ten minutes. His smiles were so quick that if you blinked for half a second, you were sure to miss them. She smiled back. Her smiles were the opposite, long and bright, like the sun in the middle of July. She liked to hold it as long as possible and let him bask in it until he flashed her one of his quick ones and she felt her heart flutter like a bird caged by her ribs. Someday, that cage was going to break open and something explosive was going to happen when it did. She felt herself getting wet again, thinking about the possibilities.

They finished eating and set off together, Beth with the black backpack on her shoulders and Daryl with his crossbow over his. She threaded her fingers through his. They had been doing that for awhile now, since before she had told him that he was her boyfriend. Things had changed since that night and they were still changing, but very slowly, at a rate similar to the one the tectonic plates move at and someday the crush of it all would form mountains.

By mid-morning, they reached the road that led to the small town. They followed it, slinking along in the treeline, like wolves skirting the edge of civilization, looking for an easy meal to scavenge. The gas station looked the same as they passed it and headed up the street to Shotgun Willie's. Daryl's arm shot out and stopped her. He wrapped his arm around her and put his hand over her mouth and slowly they backed up together and went back in the direction of the gas station.

The door had been open and flapping in the wind. More of the roof had collapsed and about twenty or so walkers were milling around the street in front of it. They had no choice, but to retreat. Beth felt sad, disappointed, frustrated. She would have thought she'd be used to this shit by now, but it still got to her every time. Daryl seemed to understand this and hugged her tightly when they were a safe distance away from the mini herd. He slowly pulled away from her, giving her a look that said they needed to keep moving and that's what they did, following the road from the trees.

“Ain't no sign that anybody's been out this way,” Daryl grumbled, “Let's find a car.”

She nodded and wiped her hand across her eyes. A throbbing sadness rang through her and the image of Maggie, Glenn, and Carl standing under the movie theater marquee flashed in her mind. What she wouldn't give to see any of them right now, to just look up and see Maggie waving at her from the horizon, or Glenn running up to give Daryl an awkward hug, or Carl falling into step with her as he enthused about comic books. She knew that any of those things happening at this point would be about as likely as Daryl pushing her up against the side of a building and tearing her panties off.

They came to a mechanic shop. The front window was smashed in and part of the roof was caved in towards the back. Several vehicles were parked behind the building and around the sides. Beth stepped through the broken window and turned on her flashlight. Behind the counter that was half smashed by a huge piece of the roof, was a small wooden box that was hanging by a thread to the wood paneled wall. She smashed the glass with her flashlight and carefully picked all the keys from amidst the glass shards. She rejoined Daryl outside.

He was standing smiling over a black motorcycle. It was the longest smile she'd ever seen him give and it made her smile too.

“Maybe one of these will work,” she said, jingling the keys.

Daryl grunted and looked through the keys until he found two he thought could be a match. The first one didn't fit, but the second one started the bike up. Beth shoved the backpack in one of the saddlebags and she took Daryl's crossbow and slung it over her back and climbed on. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her thighs into his hips.

“You ever been on a bike before?” he shouted over the roar of the engine.

_Only in a dream._

“No. This is my first time,” she yelled into his ear.

“Glad ya get to have your first ride with me.” He brushed his hand over hers where they rested on his stomach.

_First drink, first smoke, first ride._

Beth hoped she'd have other firsts with him too. She squeezed the muscles in her thighs at the thought of that. She laid her head against his vest in between the wings as he pulled out onto the road.

It wasn't quite like flying, Beth thought, but it was close. The feeling of freedom was the same. Her hair was blowing in the wind behind her. The bike hugged the road and her body hugged his as they leaned into every twist and turn. She wished the bike would never run out of gas. She wished the road would never end. She wished they could just keep riding forever, maybe ride all the way to the West Coast and then down to South America and back up again. She wished she could keep holding his body like this with the vibration of the engine between her thighs and the heat from the metal against the back of her ankles.

Daryl didn't seem to want to stop riding either, because they blew through the town they had planned on checking and continued east for about an hour until they reached the next largish city. He slowed the bike and she could tell he was glancing around for a place that looked promising. They passed five or six little strip malls, a few fast food restaurants, and a couple big box stores. Daryl pulled into the parking lot of the second one. He pulled right up to the front doors and turned the bike off after positioning it so it was facing towards the road incase they needed to make a quick getaway. Beth gave him back his crossbow and she put the backpack on again.

A line of glass doors covered in dust stood sentinel in front of them. Beth rubbed a circle in the grime and peered inside, but it was too dark to see much. A few spots of sunlight sprinkled the darkness where the roof was falling apart. Daryl tried one of the doors, but it wouldn't budge—none of them would. He used his crossbow to smash the glass out of one and he stepped through. He turned around and held out a hand to help her over the broken glass which crunched under her boots as she climbed through. She slid her swords out of her belt and followed him inside. They stood still for a moment, just listening. Nothing. Silence. Beth opened her mouth and sang a few lines at the top of her lungs.

_Strawberries, cherries and an angel's kiss in spring,_

_My summer wine is really made from all these things_

_Take off your silver spurs and help me pass the time_

_And I will give to you summer wine._

The last words of her song echoed off the dirty tiles and sent a shiver through her.

“The hell are you doin'?” Daryl said in a loud whisper.

Beth raised a finger to her lips and listened carefully for the sound of shuffling feet, for the sound of growls and moans, for the sound of a shotgun being racked. They were close enough to the door and the bike that they could make a run for it if a shit ton of walkers came crawling out of the back of the store. They waited ten or fifteen minutes, Beth keeping a lookout towards the parking lot which was eerily empty and Daryl sweeping his eyes across the dusty aisles. He tapped her shoulder and motioned for her to follow him.

Beth's fingers found his and they walked hand-in-hand down the dark rows of broken shelves, empty boxes, and spilled packages. The store was one of those one-stop shop type places as far as she could see. They passed through a produce section first where peaches, pears, oranges, and apples sat hunched, shrunken and blackened in their bins. Next to the produce section, loaves of bread and chunks of cheeses molded green and black in their protective plastic wraps. They walked on past meat cases that reeked worse than some of the walkers. Beth had to cover her nose to avoid throwing up. A few aisles over, rats the size of small dogs scurried amongst the boxes of cereal, rice, and snack crackers. Daryl pulled her down the canned goods aisle and they examined the slim pickings.

An ache of sadness shot through her as she imagined the two of them in another life wandering through the grocery store holding hands and arguing playfully about what they should have for dinner. She glanced up from her little daydream to find Daryl gazing at her with a look that mirrored what she was feeling inside at the moment.

“You thinkin' about it too?” she asked in a voice just above a whisper.

He nodded, “Yeah.”

They turned back to the shelf where a few pitiful cans of tuna, green beans, carrots, and pork and beans stared out at them from amongst the cobwebs.

“So, what do ya want for dinner, babe? Tuna casserole or pork 'n beans? Cause we ain't havin' no fuckin' green beans again,” he teased.

“Aww, but I like green beans, sweetie,” she said twisting her fingers in her ponytail.

“Guess we'll have to make 'em both,” he said, sweeping all the cans into her backpack.

She spun around to face him when he finished. She was grinning at him and he flashed her one of his little smiles and then quickly planted a kiss on her mouth. The awkwardness of it made her look away and blush. It was so fleeting and unexpected that she didn't have time to kiss him back. He took her hand again and they continued on, winding their way up and down the aisles, looking for any and every bit of food they could find which wasn't much—a pack of spaghetti noodles, a box of granola bars, a bag of off-brand cheerios, and a few chocolate bars.

They passed the end of the grocery section and into a section filled with kitchen gadgets, pots, pans, electric mixers, toasters, and stuff that was otherwise useless to them or too big to carry back on the motorcycle. The kitchen stuff changed to housewares, bedding, pillows, blankets, sheets, frilly little throw pillows, towels, lamps, dinning room chairs, ottomans.

The cluttered and broken shelves opened up to a vast expanse of clothing racks, punctuated by two square dressing rooms that stood like islands amidst the wash of fabric. Beth went straight to the women's underwear. She was going to find another bra, damn it. The ones from the car weren't cutting it. Even if she ignored the fact that they didn't have any padding in them, they were still too big for her small breasts and they were quite worn. Her other bra was falling apart. One of the straps had broken while she was practicing fighting with Daryl and she had to cut both straps off and wear it as a strapless bra from that day forward.

Daryl followed her over to a fixture covered in bras. He walked around and checked the other side of the fixture while she tried to find the same style of bra she had before. If she remembered right, she had bought it at a store similar to this one. She found one that was almost the same, except it was a light blue. She shifted through the row of them with the flashlight, trying to find her size, but they didn't have it in that style.

“Is there more on the other side?” she asked hopefully.

“Yeah, but I don't think these are your style,” he said, peeking around the side of the display. He held up a huge white bra that must have been at least a DD cup and was made of a plain material that lacked the padding she wanted.

She flipped through the row of blue bras one more time, just to be sure they didn't have her size and sighed. Daryl had come back from the other side was looking through some of the bras on the opposite end of the fixture. He picked up a few in different sizes and held them up, squinting her. She wondered if he had any clue how to make sense of the sizes and guessed he probably didn't.

“How 'bout this one?” he asked, holding up a black and red one that was covered in lace.

“What size is it?”

“Dunno. Looks like your size,” he shrugged, trying to make sense of the numbers on the tag, “Try it on.”

“Here?”

“Ain't no use takin' it if it doesn't fit.”

She nodded and traded him the flashlight for the bra. She unzipped the ugly tan jacket and began undoing the buttons on her shirt. He kept the flashlight pointed at her so she could see what she was doing. His head was turned to the side and he kept his eyes fixated on some point in the distance. She couldn't tell if he was trying to keep watch, give her a semblance of privacy, or if he was imagining her in one of the lingerie sets that were dangling from a rack in the direction he was staring. She pulled her shirt off and he held out his arm to take it from her. She hadn't bothered wearing a bra today, since the state of her pink one was so bad. She ripped the new one off the hanger and tore off the tags. She slipped her arms in and hooked it behind her back. She readjusted her breasts in the cups and fixed the straps so they were tighter.

“Looks good on ya,” Daryl said, bringing the flashlight up over Beth's chest.

She thanked him and reached for her shirt but he jerked his arm away. He held out two or three other bras.

“Try these too. Since ya won't wear the ones we found in that car.”

“Nah, it's ok. I don't want to waste too much time.”

“Look around. Ain't no one here. Ain't no walkers. Ain't no where to be. Ya got all the time in the fuckin' world, woman. Try 'em on.”

Beth looked around and considered the absurdity of the scene she currently found herself in. She was standing across from Daryl in a bra in the middle of a Wal-Mart or whatever the fuck this store had once been. The two of them stood there in the stale dark surrounded by broken shelves, dusty racks of clothing, leaves that had blown in from outside, trash, and molding food. She could hear water dripping somewhere in the distance, probably filling a dip in the warped and cracked tiles, pooling deep, green, and stagnant. Somewhere, the wind blew through one of the holes in the roof and a stack of plastic something or others clattered to the floor causing the two of them to jump, but they quickly relaxed. Daryl was right. This place was abandoned, hollow, an empty elegy to a world well past its expiration date. All the people had long gone. All the walkers had left, probably following the humans. This place stood open for the two of them, for whatever purpose they wanted, whether it was to scavenge, shelter, or try on clothes. This place was theirs for a minute, for an hour, for a week, for however long they needed it to be. Time now came before the two of them on bended knee, subdued and quiet, ready to do their bidding, accepting of its fate as their eternal servant, waiting for orders from the last two people on Earth.

“You're right. I'll try them,” she said finally.

Beth unhooked the bra she had on and traded it with Daryl for a plain black one. That one also fit. She gave it back to him and he draped the strap over his wrist with the first one she had tried and gave her the next one which was vibrant hot pink and also covered in lace. It fit fine as well, so she took it off and reached for the last one which was a light pink overlaid with snow white lace.

“Oh yeah. That one's you,” Daryl said, staring at her again as she tightened the straps.

The way he said it in that almost growl had her heart pounding. She moved closer to him, so that she was only a few inches away from him. He was looking down at her tits and he made no effort to pretend to hide it this time or look away. His eyes traced up over the curve of the cups and up the straps and his hand followed. She felt her nipples harden as his fingers brushed over the lacy cup and over the strap. He hooked a finger under the strap and untwisted it, letting it snap back against her skin. Beth reached for her shirt and slipped her arms into it. Her fingers fumbled for the buttons, but Daryl's hands knocked them away and he began to do up the buttons, slowly, in a way that made his fingers and knuckles brush against her naked skin.

She could tell he was debating whether or not he should kiss her again. She waited patiently, giving him a chance to make the move on his own and when he didn't, she just smiled at him. He would get there in time.

“Four for four. Wish ya coulda come shopping with me before the turn. Maggie never was much help. Think she was lookin' more for herself than for me cause everythin' she picked out was way too big,” Beth told him.

“Hmpf. Ain't nothing. Jus' a couple of lucky guesses,” he mumbled.

They moved on. Beth stopped and threw a package of panties into the backpack with the bras and Daryl found a couple packs of boxers that were more his style and added those to the bag.

A barrier of accessories stood between the clothing department and the healthcare products. She and Daryl wove in and out of spinning racks of sunglasses, earrings, bracelets, and necklaces and towers of silk scarves and hats. Beth tried on a pair of red plastic heart shaped sunglasses. Daryl appeared behind her in the tiny square mirror she was looking at herself in.

“Had a pair like this when I was thirteen,” she said sadly.

“They look cute on ya,” he agreed.

Beth spun the rack around, her eyes scanning up and down until a lovely pair of black, square, wayfarer type sunglasses stopped them. She pulled them and put them on Daryl before he could object.

“Perfect,” she said.

“Where are we gonna wear 'em?” he asked.

“To the beach of course, silly.”

He grunted and tucked the sunglasses in the front of his vest pocket.

“Too dark in here to keep wearin' 'em," he mumbled.

He took a big white sun hat off one of the towers and jammed it on Beth's head.

“If we're goin' to the beach you should have a hat.”

She looked in the mirror again and tugged at the brim of the hat. It was one of those big floppy ones women wore in magazines. She kept it on as they moved through the last few towers that stood guard over the jewelry cases. Beth brushed the sleeve of her jacket over the top of them and peered into the glass. Inside, she could see shiny silver and gold rings on fake velvet hands that were wrapped with diamond studded bracelets. Next to the hands a few blue velvet necks were adorned with silver and gold chains which dangled various sparkly pendants.

“See somethin' ya like?” Daryl asked.

Before she could answer, he was smashing the glass with his crossbow. She reached in and plucked out a bracelet, a thick silver cuff covered with sparkly white stones. Daryl helped her fasten it around her left wrist so it covered her scar.

“Do ya think they're real diamonds?” Beth asked, turning over the bracelet.

“Dunno.”

“Me either. Never had anything this fancy before.”

Daryl picked out a silver chain that had a pendant that was shaped like a wing and studded with little white stones.

“Matches the ones on your jacket,” she said with a smile.

“Turn around,” he said.

Beth did as he asked and brushed her ponytail to the side. He draped the necklace over her and hooked the clasp behind her neck, just like he had with the silver horsehoe charm he had given her back at the prison. His fingers just barely touched the skin on the back of her neck, sending out waves of goosebumps.

“Now we both got wings,” she said.

Daryl nodded. He watched her try on a few rings. She stopped when she saw a faded little sign on the front of the glass that said, “Let us help you find the perfect ring that'll make sure she says yes!” and “Free engraving on wedding bands with the purchase of an engagement ring!” A pang of sadness ran through her and her stomach dropped. She pulled off the rings and dropped them back into the case. She felt like she had just plummeted down a huge hill on a roller coaster.

Beth moved away from the case and over to a display of lipsticks. She busied herself in opening them and looking at the different colors. She tried not to think about the jewelry case, tried not to think about the reality that she would never get married, never get to have a wedding, never get to have a big happy party with all her family and friends, never get to walk down the aisle with her father at her side, never get to do all those things she spent so much time daydreaming about as a little girl. Tears welled up as she swiped a bright pink lipstick over her lips.

She could see Daryl in the mirror behind her. He was still digging around in the jewelry case, for what she didn't know. She continued opening tubes of makeup, really for no other reason than to keep her hands busy while she waited for Daryl to finish up whatever it was he was doing. He was swearing and every few seconds she would hear a ping as he dropped some ring or pendant. She found the brightest red lipstick she could and wrote a note on the floor for Maggie and the others. When she finished, Daryl was standing behind her with a blue shopping cart. He hooked his arm under her knees and threw her in the cart.

“I can walk ya know,” she teased.

“I know. But this is more fun.”

They crossed the aisle to the shampoos, soaps, razors, deodorants, and other health and beauty care products. Beth grabbed another box of tampons while Daryl pretended not to look. She thought about taking a pack of pink razors, but decided against it. The ones they had at the cabin worked just fine and she only shaved once every couple of weeks and it was more so to feel normal than it was for appearances.

Just before the pharmacy, Daryl stopped the cart in front of a large section of condoms and lubes. Beth suddenly felt like she was twelve again watching some R rated movie with her parents that she didn't know had a graphic sex scene in it until the sounds of grunting and banging filled the living room and she had the urge to bolt upstairs to her bedroom and hide her face under the pillow.

Beth didn't dare look up at him as he fumbled through some boxes. She was glad the sunglasses and hat hid her face. She held her breath listening to hear if he shoved anything into the backpack. Her heart was thudding so loud, she couldn't tell and after a few seconds, the cart lurched forward and they were on their way again.

They hit up the pharmacy last, taking any antibiotics, pain killers, and over the counter meds they could find, along with some bandages, antiseptic, and pain relief cream. Daryl asked her if there was anything else she wanted to look for and she shook her head. She didn't think they would find much else that would be useful here. He agreed, saying they should check a few other stores in the area and wheeled the cart around to face the front of the store.

“It's so strange finding a place like this,” Beth said as he pushed her up the main aisle.

“Ya mean a place without walkers?”

“Yeah and without people.”

He grunted in agreement, “Feels like we're the only two people left in the world sometimes, don't it?”

“It does,” she agreed, feeling that twinge of sadness again.

He stopped the cart and she took off the hat and slid the sunglasses to the top of her head.

“It's not so bad though, is it?” he asked, his voice starting to fill with worry.

“I miss the others, Maggie, Glenn, Carl, Judith, Rick, but I'm glad I'm here with you.”

“We'll find 'em someday, Beth, but first we have to get the hell out of here.”

Before she could say anything else, he broke into a sprint and jumped on the back of the cart as they flew up the aisle. The sadness was pushed away by the sudden wave of giddiness brought on by the acceleration. The sound of the wheels rattling and their laughter filled the hollow building. She could see the daylight pouring in through the front doors and the outline of the bike just behind it.

The smell of rot overwhelmed them as they reached the front of the store. At first Beth thought it was the smell from the meat cases, but she could already hear the growls. Daryl slowed the cart and both of them looked to the left. Thirty or forty of them were banging against the doors under a faded sign that read “Garden Center”. The glass was cracking on one of the doors and one of the walkers was being cut to ribbons as the ones behind it surged against it, pushing it through the glass until it broke and the herd started to pour out.

Daryl pushed the cart past the checkout lanes. Beth stood up and he put his hands on her waist and swung her down. They ran out the front door and he set the crossbow in her arms as he fumbled in his pockets for the key to the motorcycle. Beth shot the first walker to emerge into the sunlight. The bike rumbled to life behind her and she climbed on. She screamed as fingers caught in her ponytail. Daryl turned around and helped to untangle the walker's fingers from her hair as she reached for her knife and twisted around. She managed to stab the walker in the forehead and pushed it to the ground. Daryl took off through the parking lot and back onto the road. Behind them the herd was still coming. They wouldn't be able to stop anywhere else in this town. Daryl turned the bike east and they headed further away from the cabin.

They drove on long after their heart rates had slowed and the herd was lost around a curve somewhere along the way. Beth clung to Daryl's back, with her head pressed between the wings on his vest. She wasn't sure how many hours had passed since they fled the super store, but her ass was going numb from the constant vibration of the motor and her head was ringing from the sound.

Daryl slowed the bike and pulled off onto the gravelly shoulder of the country road. He turned the bike off and together they sat on the side of the road, peering over the map. They weren't far from the ocean now, maybe another hour or so. There was a small town along the shore and they debated whether they should try for it or make camp in the trees alongside the road for the night. Either way, the bike was running low on gas and they'd have to find some before they turned back toward the cabin. Daryl also thought it was best if they waited a day or two before heading back to give the herd time to move on or disperse.

Beth stood up and stretched, rubbing the backs of her thighs while Daryl dug around in the backpack for the box of granola bars. They shared one and Daryl had a smoke. In the end they decided to continue on to the small town in hopes that they'd be able to find a building to shelter in for the night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The lyrics in this chapter are from the song Summer Wine by Lana Del Rey and Barrie-James O'Neill.


	28. Twenty Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is up a bit later than I wanted but the power was out at my apartment for over two hours. Thank god it came back on in time for the new episode of The Walking Dead tonight!  
> Anyways, a lot happens in this chapter and I hope you enjoy! Thanks for reading!

Daryl could feel Beth's weight shifting against his back as he leaned into the curve of the pavement. He wasn't used to having someone in the seat behind him, but it felt right having her there. He knew it would. He knew it since the first time the thought had crossed his mind as he laid in the funeral home bed waiting for her to come out of the bath.

 

They probably should have taken one of the cars at the mechanic shop. They would have been able to loot a whole lot more if they had, but _this_ , this feeling, was more important, was better, than anything they could have possibly brought back with them. They could always hunt if they ran out of food. They didn't really need more soap or hygiene products. He didn't care if she had that sweaty body order scent and he didn't think she minded his smell either. After all, he had gone well over a week without bathing or wearing any kind of deodorant and she still had curled up next to him. They didn't need more clothes either. They could wear they ones they had until they were full of holes and fell off their bodies and then they could go naked because it didn't matter in this world where it was just Beth and Daryl.

The only supplies they really needed were medical ones and those were small enough to cram into the bike's saddlebags or the backpack. Daryl was sure though if they had a book they could probably learn some natural remedies to replace the chemical ones they found at the store, but he'd rather not risk her health on it or even his own. He had decided he wanted to be there for her as long as he could and he hoped that would be a long time.

That wasn't going to happen if he kept being careless like he was at that big box store. He should have done a thorough sweep before they wandered around. He shouldn't have let himself forget that just because they had been lucky in not running into many walkers thus far didn't mean that they wouldn't run into any in that store. They had been having a good day until that shit storm of walkers. Beth seemed like she was happy and having fun until they came to that jewelry case. He wasn't sure exactly why she suddenly seemed like she was going to cry, but he could guess that marriage, like dating, was something she felt sad about missing out on because of the turn.

He swerved the bike, narrowly missing a pile of tree branches in the road and decided it was best not to think about these things while he needed to be concentrating on driving. The sun was sinking towards the horizon now and it was quickly becoming apparent to Daryl that they weren't going to reach that town before the bike ran out of gas. The scale on that map must have been off or something because it made the town look a lot closer than it actually was. He kept going for a few more miles and pulled off the road in front of two shabby buildings.

The first building was burned out. It looked like it had been a gas station at one point. The next building was about a quarter of a mile up the road from the gas station and looked more promising so Daryl parked the bike around back of it. He checked the gravelly dirt driveway for any signs of human footprints leading up to the doors or windows, but he saw none. He and Beth climbed the wooden steps and stood on the porch. A faded hand-carved wooden sign hung from one chain at the far end of the porch. Daryl could just make out “Fauna Taxidermy” with a little picture of a deer's head under it.

Beth was peering into the dark window to the left of the door. Daryl banged on the door a couple times while Beth watched. She looked back at him and held up four fingers. He put his hand on the door knob and nodded to her. She had her swords in her hands now and when she nodded back, he yanked the door open. The first two walkers were waiting against the door and stumbled onto the porch. Beth got one in the back of the head and he took the other.

They moved inside. One walker was trapped behind a counter that held one of those old fashioned looking cash registers and the other walker was dragging itself towards them on its elbows. Beth dispatched the crawling walker and Daryl took out the one behind the counter. He helped her drag the bodies outside and pile them at the foot of the stairs. They did a quick sweep of the small shop which consisted of a showroom with a cash register, two large rooms which contained a variety of tools and equipment for preparing animal carcasses for mounting, and a very tiny bathroom with a toilet and sink. Upstairs there was a large open room that seemed to be a mixture of storage and showroom.

When he was satisfied with the sweep, he bolted the door shut and he and Beth pushed a large male lion in front of the door. They found some small metal tools in one of the rooms downstairs and strung them up on fishing line at the base of the stairs. They blocked off the top of the stairs with a large mount that was made up of two wolves. One was staring off into the distance, its mouth in a snarl and the other was leaping into the air, hind paws just barely touching the polished board, teeth poised to tear the flesh off of some invisible deer. Daryl sat their belongings in the center of the room and spread out the blanket they had brought.

Beth had wandered over to the corner of the room and was digging around in some boxes. A lantern clicked on, throwing light onto dozens of snarling grins that filled the room, bears, lions, wolves, foxes, mountain lions, and a few alligators. Deer heads and antlers lined every inch of the walls. It was unsettling as fuck in the orange-yellow light of the lantern. This is what hell must be like for a hunter, Daryl thought. Beth brought the lantern over and sat next to him on the blanket. She was carrying a set of antlers. No, not a set, a mismatched pair. Each one likely came from a different animal.

Beth turned them over in her hands, running her fingers along the lengths of them. She held one up to each side of her head, pressing them into her hair. A shiver went through him and he thought of that dream he had at the lake where she turned into a deer. The accusing eyes of the mounted animals that surrounded them combined with seeing Beth holding up the antlers to her head were beginning to make him feel anxious.

“I had a dream once,” she said, when she noticed him staring at her.

Figured. A chill went down his spine.

“When we were in those woods by the lake?” he grunted.

“Yeah. Before we got to that funeral home. After you gave me my first crossbow lesson—first sober lesson anyways.”

He held his breath waiting and wondering if she was going to tell him about it and kind of hoping she wouldn't. If it ended anything like his had, he didn't want to hear it.

“I had antlers in my dream. Jus' like these,” she told him.

“So you were a deer then?”

“No. I was me, but with antlers. I was by myself in the forest,” she said quietly. Her face was turning pink in the yellow glow of the lantern, “Naked,” she added, “And you were there, watchin' me. I ran and ya chased me.”

Nausea surged up in his stomach. He had a feeling he knew how her dream ended and it wasn't good.

“I shot ya, didn't I?” he mumbled, looking down at his feet.

“Yeah. Ya did,” she confirmed, “But it was weird. I dunno how to explain it. I wanted you to shoot me. I practically begged you.”

“Why the hell would ya do that?”

“Dunno. Don't think you were trying to kill me. I think it was supposed to be like gettin' shot with Cupid's Arrow.”

“But when I shot ya, I killed ya?”

“I woke up before I could find out, but I don't think ya did.”

“Where did the arrow hit?”

“It pierced my chest—my heart.”

“Sounds like a kill shot to me.”

“Yeah, but Daryl, it was my _heart._ That's gotta mean somethin'. At least I think so.”

He nodded and grunted, but he still didn't see it as a good thing that he was shooting her with arrows in her dream. He dug around in the backpack for something they could eat for dinner. He pushed aside the packs of underwear and the bras Beth had taken and grabbed a small purple box before it could tumble out of the bag. He didn't want Beth to see he had taken them. Even though she may have guessed that he had when he stopped in front of that particular section of the store. She had looked like she was staring off in the opposite direction, but he didn't know, she may have been watching out the corner of her eyes.

Daryl felt guilty for taking them, but really, he was only trying to be responsible. He didn't know when they'd go out scavenging again and with the way things were going with Beth, it was better to have them on hand, than to not. One of these days, it would be impossible to stop. It was already hard as hell to. After what had happened with Lori, there was no way in hell he was about to risk letting Beth get knocked up. And if that did happen, they might as well stop looking for Maggie and Rick, because he was quite sure if he showed up hand-in-hand with a Beth who was six months pregnant, Maggie would put a bullet in his brain and ask questions later.

He shuddered at the thought and shoved the box as deep down into the bag as possible. He took out the package of off-brand cheerios and tore them open. Beth had gotten up and taken her jeans off. She was padding around the room in her socks and blue flannel shirt which was just long enough to cover her ass. Her ponytail was loose and messy and just barely staying in after the motorcycle ride and that walker that had grabbed her by her hair.

She had her back to him and was standing in front of a grizzly bear that had been mounted standing on its hind legs. The bear towered above her. It was at least two or three feet taller than her. She ran her fingers through the fur on its stomach and then curled her fingers around its paw. He supposed she was thinking about another one of her dreams. He remembered her saying something before about him being a bear in her dream.

They shared the bag of cereal and afterwards she curled up at the feet of the grizzly bear she had been examining earlier. He sat next to her and allowed her to put her head in his lap. He would take the first watch and wake her before dawn so he could have a few hours of sleep before they hit the road again. Daryl ran his fingers through her hair, absentmindedly untangling the knots as he went. After awhile, her breathing slowed and he could tell she was out. He kept stroking her hair and eventually ran his hands down her shoulder, down her arm, down her hip to where her shirt had ridden up. His fingers picked at the thin lacy band of her panties, lifting it up and stroking the skin on the side of her hip, feeling how smooth and warm it was and feeling his dick get hard.

Beth muttered something in her sleep and turned onto her back which didn't help things. She had unbuttoned all the buttons on her shirt except the one in between her tits. He could see down her shirt enough to know she wasn't wearing her bra and even if he couldn't he would still know she wasn't wearing one because she almost never wore one to bed. He thought about doing something about his erection, but he couldn't move if he wanted to and all the creepy glass animal eyes were staring at him judgmentally.

Instead, Daryl reached in his vest pocket and pulled out the pack of cigarettes. Something metal clanked to the wooden boards as he did. He snatched it up and turned it over in his fingers. It was one of the rings Beth had tried on earlier. It was nothing special, a plain silver band with a round blue stone in the center and a white stone—probably not diamonds, but some cubic zirconia shit, on either side of the blue one. He didn't know why he even took it. He went to flick it across the room into a pile of boxes, but changed his mind at the last second and tucked it back into his pocket, trading it for his lighter. He smoked the cigarette and sat there for awhile, just listening to her slow and gentle breathing. He was fighting to stay awake. He hadn't heard a sound in hours and the alarm system would wake him. He wouldn't fall into a deep sleep anyway. He squeezed in behind Beth and curled his body around hers, burying his face in the back of her neck. It didn't take long before he was out cold.

He was sitting in a booth that was coated in red vinyl. A plastic red and white checkered table cloth covered the table that stood between him and Glenn and Rick and Michonne. A greasy looking pepperoni pizza lay in the center of the table and a mug of beer sat in front of each of their plates. Daryl suddenly remembered how hungry he was and began to shove the piece of pizza that was on his plate into his mouth. The others were eating more slowly and were engaged in a conversation that Daryl couldn't remember.

“So Daryl, you and Beth have been seein' each other for awhile now,” Michonne started. Her eyes sparkled mischievously and she grinned at him from across the table. Rick had his arm draped around her shoulders.

“Couple months, yeah,” Daryl agreed.

“Couple months, my ass. You've known each other a couple _years_ and you can't tell me nothing was going on before you two made it 'official',” Glenn said.

“Nah, was nothin' like that,” Daryl tried to deny it, shoving more pizza in his mouth.

“We told people the same thing at first too, didn't we, Rick?” Michonne asked, shooting a smile at Rick.

Rick nodded, “Yeah. Guess we did, huh?”

The three of them laughed and Daryl tried to remember when Rick and Michonne had become a couple. He vaguely could recall Rick staring at her ass on a few occasions and Rick had told him a handful of times, “Michonne's really somethin', eh?” Carl was also very close to her since Lori died. Daryl figured it was probably inevitable that Rick and Michonne would get together and maybe it had always been inevitable that he and Beth would get together too.

“Maggie and I wanna know if you and Beth are gonna get married. Maggie's ready to start planning the wedding,” Glenn said.

“What?” Daryl said, turning red.

“I think ya mean, when are they gonna get married, not _if_ ,” Rick corrected.

The three of them broke into laughter again and they all stared at Daryl.

“Dunno. Haven't thought about it. Haven't talked about it,” Daryl muttered.

“C'mon! Really?!” Glenn yelled, slamming his mug on the table, “You know Beth's the kind of girl who's probably been planning her wedding since she was five years old!”

“Nah. She hasn't said anythin' about it,” Daryl told them.

“I bet he hasn't even said the 'L' word to her yet,” Michonne said with a smirk.

“What?! No way, he has to have told her by now,” Glenn said.

“'L' word? The fuck is that?” Daryl said through narrowed eyes.

“Love, sweetie,” Michonne said, looking him straight in the eyes.

“Ya do love her, don't ya?” Rick asked.

“Dunno. Never been in love before,” he answered. It was true. He wasn't even sure how to define the word. An image of Beth standing in front of a broken shelf in a dark grocery aisle, grinning at him popped into his head. A small smile flashed across his own lips for just a second.

“Awww. He does love her. Just look at him blushing,” Michonne laughed, “It's ok to admit it.”

“Ok, so maybe I do,” Daryl grumbled. He was more annoyed by their pestering than the admission itself.

“You need to tell her, brother,” Rick said, staring at him from across the table, “Tell her before it's too late.”

“We got all the time in the world,” Daryl told them.

“Can never be too sure,” Michonne said, shaking her head.

“She's right, ya know,” Glenn agreed, “You should tell her soon, but ya got to do it somewhere romantic.”

“Dunno how,” Daryl muttered.

“It's easy. Just open your mouth and say it,” Glenn told him.

“Wouldn't know what to say,” Daryl said again.

“Just say something like 'You're the smartest, bravest, most amazing, most beautiful woman I've ever met and I love you, Beth,'” Glenn said.

“Oooh, you should take her somewhere really nice for dinner and then go for a walk on the beach,” Michonne suggested.

“No, he should take her to the zoo, buy her cotton candy and one of those little stuffed bears and tell her there. Beth loves animals,” Glenn said.

“Nah you're both wrong. Ya should take her on a run, one where you're out there all day, just the two of ya against the world, and ya don't get back until the sun is setting. You grab her and push her up against a wall and kiss her while you're both covered in sweat and walker blood. Then ya pull back and look into her eyes and say it,” Rick said.

Everyone agreed that that was the perfect way and it was so sweet and a bunch of other mushy bullshit. Daryl just stared into his plate feeling unsure about which way was really best. He figured he'd know the moment when it arrived and didn't say anything farther.

The scene faded and he was back at the cabin. He was sitting on the roof with Beth in between his legs. She was leaning back against his chest and he had his arms wrapped around her shoulders. They were staring up at the sky, naming the constellations. Well, Beth was naming them. She got them all right too.

“Do I get my prize now?” she asked him.

He nodded and she tilted her head up towards him and parted her lips expectantly. He stared at her instead.

“There's somethin' I wanna say first. And it's been true for awhile now.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you.”

There he said it. It was done. His heart was pounding wildly in his chest and his palms were sweating where they rested against the fabric of her tank top. He waited for her to say something, but she just smiled at him and he felt relieved. He woke up before she could respond.

Daryl opened his eyes to find his head was in Beth's lap. He came face to face with her bellybutton which was peeking out where her shirt was unbuttoned. His hand was wrapped around her leg and his fingers were buried between her thighs.

She must have woken up sometime after he passed out and took up the watch. Her fingers were twisted in his hair and rubbing little circles across his scalp. He could just make out the outline of her face in the pale dawn that was squeezing its way through the tiny window at the front of the house. She hadn't noticed he was awake yet and was still staring across the room towards the stairs.

Daryl shifted and turned his face so his nose was between her thighs and covered his eyes with his arm to block out the light that was growing every minute. Beth jumped in surprise at the sudden movement. Hell, maybe it wasn't the movement, maybe it tickled, maybe him burying his face between her thighs gave her a rush. It gave him one. After a minute he rolled back over and looked up at her.

“Hey, beautiful,” he muttered, his voice still heavy with sleep.

She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but smiled nonetheless.

“Mornin'. You looked like you were sleepin' good. No nightmares, I trust.”

“None,” he replied, sitting up.

His hand found her waist and the other one cupped her jaw. He licked his lips and kissed her good morning, not just a peck on the lips, but a long deep kiss that made her groan into his mouth. He pulled away reluctantly, because they needed to eat and get going.

After a breakfast that consisted of half a granola bar each, they dressed and went back down stairs. One of the rooms had a few gas cans and one of those cans had enough gas to fill up the bike. They'd be able to get to the town and then back to cabin again. The morning was frigid and a layer of frost had covered the grass while they had slept. The sun was out though and the sky was clear and cloudless. She climbed on the bike behind him and pressed her body against his and he was glad for the warmth.

It still took them a couple hours to reach the town. A few walkers were milling around the main street, but it was nothing they couldn't take care of. Other than that, it was ghost town. A bitterly cold wind that smelled briny and slightly fishy blew old newspapers down the sidewalk. Brightly colored buildings lined the street shoulder to shoulder, huddled together against the cold. It was one of those small, artsy, tourist towns, the ones filled with galleries, antique stores, souvenir shops, and boutiques, one of those places where everything cost about ten times what it was worth. At the very far end of the street, the road dipped down towards a parking lot that stood before a long sandy expanse before it blurred with the blue gray of what must have been the ocean. Gulls cried out from the beach as they circled over the shoreline.

Beth had her face pressed to the window of the nearest shop. Dreamcatchers and wind chimes hung on a rack in front of the window and a sign on the door read, “Half-price Psychic Readings Every Thursday 6-8pm.” Beth reached for the door and it popped open with jingle.

“What are ya goin' in there for?” he asked her.

She shrugged, “Might as well have a look in all the shops. This is our vacation after all.”

“This what people do on vacations? Go in shops?”

“Yeah. It's part of exploring a new place. C'mon,” she said holding the door open for him.

He followed her inside with his crossbow raised. A rack of wind chimes crashed to the wooden floor as a walker moved from behind the counter. Beth dispatched it before he could even aim his bow.

The smell of incense stung his nose. The walls were lined with shelves that were covered with candles, statues, and various gemstones. Shelves full of books about yoga, crystals, magick, and spirituality and racks crammed with new age meditation music filled the center of the room. Daryl flipped through one of the yoga books and laughed. Beth turned and looked at him.

“Somethin' funny?” she asked.

“Nah, jus', Merle was with this woman for awhile. She was into all this stuff, meditation, yoga, natural healin'.”

“And Merle thought it was all a bunch of bullshit?”

“Hmpf. Pretty much. Don't know why she was with him to begin with. Must have thought she could fuck the negativity out of the old bastard or somethin'.”

“Guess it didn't work, huh?” she asked, snorting back a laugh.

“Nope. She had high hopes up until she caught him in bed with that bimbo that worked at the gas station.”

“No offense, but I don't know how your brother got so many women to sleep with him.”

“None taken. I don't fully understand it myself.”

“Maybe he was usin' this,” she laughed, holding up a tiny vial of red liquid.

“What the hell is that? Blood?”

“It says Aphrodite's Love Potion. Make any woman want to have sex with you.”

“Hmpf. Yeah right. Probably made out of fruit punch or somethin'.”

She moved along the shelf, picking up odd items here and there. She stopped and doubled over in laughter. He crossed the room to see what was so funny. She was standing in front of a shelf filled with penis shaped candles.

“Think we should replace the candles at the cabin with these?” she laughed.

“Fuck no. C'mon, let's see if there's anything else worth takin' around here.”

Beth nodded and he turned around to check the display case near the counter. She hesitated for a moment in front of the shelf and he heard her shove something into the backpack. He shook his head. He supposed she could enjoy her penis candle while she took a bath or something. He heard her throw a few more things into the bag but he didn't turn around to see what she was taking. There wasn't anything worth taking in the case, just a few pentagrams and bigger crystals that would have been good to bludgeon a walker with in a pinch.

Beth was now browsing the books and pouring over a little one with a black cover. He couldn't read the title from where he was standing so he came up and stood behind her. Anxiety rolled through him when he realized she was looking at a book about the Kama Sutra. She had it open to a page that showed a man lying on his back in bed with a woman sitting over his hips, facing away from him. She had one hand in between her legs and the other one behind her on the man's chest. The book called the position the tigress, but to Daryl it just looked like reverse cowgirl. He felt himself getting hard thinking of he and Beth in that position, thinking about her ass bouncing up and down over his hips, thinking about her back arched in ecstasy, her hair hanging down her back and just barely brushing against his stomach.

She turned the page to a more complicated position that showed a woman with her legs wrapped around the man's waist and he was holding her up with his hands wrapped around her thighs. Daryl had held Beth like that before when she had jumped into his arms after shooting that rabbit. He supposed he could hold her like that while he fucked her. She didn't weigh that much and he was more than strong enough.

A nasty cocktail of anxiety and guilt surged through his veins when he realized what he was thinking about doing. The bells on the door jingled as he pushed it open. Outside, he leaned against the bricks. He took out his pack of cigarettes and lit one up, trying to calm himself. Maybe he should have looked at the mediation books, maybe there would have been something about getting rid of this crazy fire that was raging inside him right now and making him want to lift Beth up onto that counter, tear her clothes off and fuck her brains out.

His hand shook as he brought the cigarette to his lips and took a drag. He inhaled deeply and held the smoke until the irritation in his throat became too much and he was forced to let it roll out. He shot a quick glance over his shoulder at Beth, just long enough to see she was still looking at that damn book. She was probably going to be disappointed when they had sex. He only knew a few positions and none of them were as complicated as the ones in that book. They didn't have to have sex, he supposed. They had made it this far without doing it. Hell, who was he kidding, it was as inevitable as death and taxes. Taxes could now be crossed off that list and replaced with sex with Beth.

He finished his cigarette and she emerged a few minutes later. He didn't see if she took the book and he sure as hell wasn't going to ask her. They didn't need a book to fuck anyways, just like they didn't need a game to get lit. Beth looked flushed and he could tell she had been biting at her lip, because it looked extra pink and a little swollen. When she took his hand to lead him farther up the street, her palm was sweaty, but so was his.

The sun was high overhead and he guessed it was sometime after noon now. It had warmed up a little since they left the taxidermy shop that morning, but it was still chilly and a biting wind was coming off the water. They ducked into another building which turned out to be a gallery lined with paintings of naked women.

“I bet Merle would've liked these,” Beth said as she walked around the narrow rectangular room, blowing dust off the canvases.

“Hmpf. He never much cared for art,” Daryl grumbled.

"I bet some of these could've change his mind," she said playfully.

Beth sat on the bench next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. Her hand came up on the side of his jaw and tilted his head down to meet her lips. Her tongue teased along his bottom lip until finally he opened his mouth to let her taste him. He groaned against her lips and tried to resist the urge to pull her into his lap. She tried to climb into it a few times, but he held her firmly at arms length.

She pulled back panting, her lips glistening. Her fingers found the zipper on the ugly tan jacket and she removed it. It hit the dusty black floor with a quiet thump. Daryl watched her breathlessly as she undid the buttons on her shirt and tossed that aside too. He pulled her close again and kissed her. Her skin was getting goosebumps. He moved his lips down over her jaw and pushed aside her hair so he could kiss down her neck. She whimpered as he licked up the side of her neck to her ear and then nipped at her earlobe. His dick was throbbing in his jeans by this point and he was sure that if he was brave enough to unbutton her jeans and slide his hand down the front of her panties, he'd find that she was wet.

His fingers danced over the clasp on her bra and without thinking much about it, he unhooked it. He curled his fingers around the straps and pulled them down over her arms, tossing the bra across the gallery. He gripped her around her ribs and laid her down on the bench. He slid his hands up so that he could brush his thumbs over her nipples until they hardened and she threw her head back and arched her hips against his. He brought a hand down under the small of her back and held her there as he pushed and rubbed his erection against her.

Daryl leaned over her and kissed down the front of her neck to her collar bone, pausing every few inches to lick, suck, and sometimes nibble at her soft flesh. He moved his mouth farther down, in between her breasts. He was debating whether or not he should take a nipple into his mouth when he realized her arm was draped over her stomach and her hand disappeared beneath the waistband of her jeans. He suddenly felt guilty again and wondered if he should just stop before this went any further.

The choice was made for him when two walkers bumped against the front window. Beth let out a laugh and removed her hand. He collapsed on top of her and she wound the hand that she touched herself with through the back of his hair. They both let out a semi-frustrated sigh, but continued to lay there. One of the walkers banged against the door and Daryl sat up reluctantly. He scooped up Beth's bra and tossed it to her. He pulled out his knife and threw open the door to take care of the two walkers while Beth dressed.

They crossed the street to a little ice cream shop. The door was stuck closed and there didn't seem to be much worth looting inside, so he and Beth sat at a little round wrought iron table that was rusting. She pulled her chair around to the same side as his so she could stare out over the water. He dug in the backpack for the chocolate bars and found that she had indeed taken the Kama Sutra book. She looked at him and blushed and he pretended not to have noticed the book. He passed her one of the bars and tore open the wrapper of another.

She ate in silence, chewing slowly and thoughtfully as she looked out over the waves.

“We should go down there. See it up close,” she said.

“We'll go tomorrow.”

“We still got time tonight.”

“It'll still be there in the mornin'. We need to get set up for the night.”

She looked like she wanted to argue, but it was starting to get dark and she had to know he was right. They sat there a little longer, her watching the ocean, and Daryl watching her. He kept replaying the dream from last night over in his head. Rick, Glenn, and Michonne's voices ecohed on an endless loop in his brain, urging him to tell Beth how he felt, but his mouth stayed glued shut. The chair scraped the pavement when it was almost too dark to see the water and Beth finally stood up.

They went inside the building next to the ice cream parlor which turned out to be one of those expensive boutique stores. The walls were lined with brightly colored beaded gowns and mannequins were propped up throughout the middle of the building wearing various floor length evening gowns. Beth stopped to run her hands over a forest green one that was covered in beads or sequins, Daryl couldn't tell which. He watched as her brow furrowed. Her face relaxed after a second and then she just looked sad. Daryl grabbed her wrist and pulled her up the stairs.

The stairs opened up to an elegantly decorated hallway with a balcony that overlooked the sales floor below. A large circular mirror that was ringed with pearls and shiny clear stones hung above a polished antique table. On the table there was a large crystal bowl filled with mints and on either side of it two tall slender vases each held the skeletal remains of badly decayed flowers. Dry and crumbled petals lay amid the dust on the table. Numbered doors lined the right side of the hallway, about six in all. Each room had several victorian style arm chairs gathered around a pedestal in the center of the room and floor to ceiling mirrors covered three out of four of the walls. A tiny chandelier hung above the pedestal in each room and a metal rack was pushed to the back of each one near the door. Some of the racks still had dresses hanging on them.

Beth had moved to the opposite end of the hallway where a large circular room was ringed with white fluffy dresses. She was examining one of them with that same sad look on her face. He turned and went back into the hallway. The left side of the hallway consisted of two doors. One led to a room filled with sewing machines and the other led to a small office.

Daryl began clearing a space behind the desk for them to spend the night. He pushed the heavy oak desk across the room so they could block the door with it later. He took one of the wedding dresses from the sewing room and began to violently hack it apart with his knife. He figured they could cut off the hard beaded bits and use the rest of the material to sleep on. It would be a hell of a lot softer than spending a night sleeping on the hard floor. Beth came running in when she heard the sound of fabric tearing.

“What are you doing, Daryl?” she yelled.

“Makin' us a bed,” he replied.

She ran forward and grabbed his wrist. Her eyes were shining with tears.

“Stop, just stop,” she begged.

“Why? Ain't no one gonna wear this now.”

“That's not the point.”

“Then what is?”

She swiped her hand over her eyes and ran out of the room. Daryl heard one of the doors on the left side of the hallway slam and his face stung as if she had slapped him. He didn't see what he was doing wrong by cutting up the dress. They needed somewhere comfortable to sleep more than anyone needed a wedding dress. He sighed and threw the ruined fabric to the corner of the room. He went back downstairs and secured the door. He found a case of sparkly hair ornaments and tiaras and threaded those on some ribbon from the sewing room to make an alarm system which he draped at the top of the stairs.

Beth had locked herself in one of the dressing rooms. He pressed his ear to the door and could hear she was sobbing. He called her name a few times and kicked the door, but she didn't answer him. He stormed back to the office and slammed stuff around. How the hell was he supposed to know cutting up that damn dress would upset her so much? Now she was in there crying because of his stupid ass. He slumped against the wall and tried to calm down. He busied himself looking through the stacks of paper for anything that might be of use to them. He found nothing other than old receipts and a book of matches. He sharpened his knife for awhile and when there was nothing else to do he crept back down the dark hallway.

He was relieved to find that she was no longer sobbing and she had unlocked the door and opened it a crack. She must have taken some candles from the new age shop because there were three or four tall glass candles with saints painted on them placed in a ring around the pedestal. Beth was standing on the pedestal admiring herself in the mirror. The beading sparkled in the candlelight as she turned. She had taken her hair down and it fell over the parts of her back left bare by the white lace. She hadn't been able to do up the ribbon in the back by herself so the dress stretched open showing her back all the way down to her panties. Daryl considered pushing the door open and trying to help her, but when he saw the look on her face, he was crushed and a barrier sprung up in front of the door that was too heavy for him to push aside. He had never seen her look so utterly hopeless. He was usually the one who didn't hold out much hope. She was always looking on the bright side and shit like that. His eyes traced up from the v neck of the dress and paused on two black-purple bruises on her neck. He shivered thinking that just a few hours ago, he had made those with his mouth. He watched her for a few more minutes, trying to memorize the way the dress hugged her breasts, ass, hips, and thighs.

Daryl returned to the office. He didn't know what to do while with himself while he waited for her. He had already sharpened his knife and reorganized their supplies twice. He wanted to do something to erase that horrible look on Beth's face, but he didn't have any idea what. The office was providing little inspiration. A long cord with a little wooden bead hung down over where the desk was. He hadn't thought much of it earlier. He figured it was a light switch, but now that it was darker, he realized there wasn't a light up there. He pulled on the string and a ladder slowly dropped down. He took his crossbow and the flashlight and climbed up.

The attic was largely empty. A few broken mannequins and old display signs were piled up in the center of the room. He walked the perimeter shining the flashlight along the walls. A glint of brass stopped him and he bent down and tugged on the little handle. He figured it was probably just some little crawlspace, extra storage. He had to fight to get it open and he almost gave up. Just as he turned around to go back to the office, the door creaked open. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

“Ain't no such thing as ghosts,” he muttered to himself to try to feel brave. In reality though, he didn't believe that. He believed in ghosts as much as he believed in the chupacabra. He had seen both with his own eyes over the course of his life.

Even though his heart was thudding in his ears, he threw open the door the rest of the way. He shined the flashlight inside and when he didn't see or hear anything besides a few cobwebs, he bent over and walked through the little corridor. At the end of it, he came to another similar door which was also stuck. He shoved his shoulder against it and kicked it.

He was about to turn back again when it popped open. He swore under his breath and pushed through the door. He emerged into another attic. This one was smaller and cluttered. Daryl squeezed through the boxes looking for the trap door that would lead down into the store. He found it and deployed the ladder. He laid on his stomach and peered down into the dark room below, another office. He banged on the floor and shouted, but nothing banged back so he descended the ladder.

He tried to remember what was next to the dress shop, but he and Beth hadn't explored much of this side of the street yet. This shop was smaller and the upstairs consisted only of an office and a little balcony that overlooked the showroom below. He went down the stairs, sweeping his flashlight over the room below. Gems and metals sparkled as the light touched them. It was a jewelry store.

Daryl walked amongst the dusty cases, examining the contents. These pieces seemed to be much nicer than the ones at the big box store. He was willing to bet most of these had real diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, and rubies. He caught a glimpse of a few of the faded price tags and his suspicions were confirmed. A few of the necklaces were in the six digit range. He couldn't for the life of him imagine someone, anyone, paying that much for a stupid necklace. He could have bought a fairly nice house for the same price as a few of the pieces.

He picked up one of the booklets that was sitting on top of a case of rings and flipped through it as he held the flashlight in his teeth. It was all about engagement rings and how to pick the perfect one and all about selecting a diamond and a bunch of other stuff that was essentially useless gibberish to Daryl. He tossed the booklet aside. He felt guilty and nauseous again. He remembered Beth yesterday at the big store, the way she threw down the rings when she saw that sign about engagement rings. He probably should have never let them go into that dress shop today. He should have never cut up that dress either. He didn't know how to properly apologize for it.

He went back to scanning the display cases. Maybe he could find something she would like. He had used a piece of jewelry before to apologize to her. It would probably work again.

At first he was planning on getting her the biggest, most exquisite, most expensive necklace the shop had, but then when he saw it, he decided that it was ridiculous. It would probably get broken the first time a walker grabbed it and Beth would cry to see something so beautiful ruined. He didn't remember if she had her ears pierced so he disregarded the earrings completely. Her bracelets were always getting broken or tangled on things so he decided against getting her one of those.

The shop did have a lot of nice rings and Beth had been trying some on yesterday. A ring would be small, less likely to get caught on things, and less likely to get ripped off by a walker. Daryl fished in his vest pocket and pulled out the ring Beth had tried on at the store yesterday. He went through every single case, took out all the rings and held each one up to the ring from the big box store. He sorted the rings into two piles, one pile for the rings that matched the size of the ring he had taken yesterday, and one pile for the everything else that was too big or too small.

When he was finished he had a pile of about ten rings. He threw out three which were worth less than ten grand a piece. He had the urge to give her something he would have never been able to afford in his old life. He stared at the seven remaining rings as if he was waiting for them to speak to him and tell him which one Beth would like best. He had a mix of gold, silver, and platinum and of round, square, and teardrop shaped diamonds. A few of the rings incorporated other stones, rubies or sapphires. He had no idea which of these things she preferred. What colors did she wear the most? Pink and blue, he supposed, but she looked good in black and in red lipstick.

She already had two silver necklaces, so he decided to throw out the two rings that were gold. That still didn't help much and he was becoming increasingly frustrated. Part of him wanted to just close his eyes and grab one. Part of him wished someone was here to help him, maybe Maggie or Michonne or Andrea. They would know more about this than he did. Hell, probably Rick and Glenn could've done a better job. He held up each ring one at at time, trying to see if one popped out at him more than the others. None of them did. He growled and stormed to the back of the room into another office.

A safe was flung open in the back of the room. Whoever had owned the shop had left stacks of cash and several pieces of jewelry behind. He pulled out two very extravagant necklaces that were covered in diamonds, emeralds, and sapphires. The safe also contained five rings. Only one of the rings was the right size and he had a feeling in his gut that she would love this one. The band consisted of two thin strands, one of which was a rose gold and the other was made of silver or maybe platinum, Daryl didn't know how to tell the difference. The two strands twisted around each other making sideways figure eights all the way around the band. The strands were studded with tiny white stones that glimmered as he passed the light over them. The center stone was a light pink diamond cut into a square that was roughly the size of the nail on his pinky finger and ringed with yet more tiny white diamonds.

Daryl placed the ring he took yesterday in the safe and tucked the new one in his pocket. Outside, the sky was starting to lighten and he realized he had spent the whole night looking at jewelry. His head was spinning from the lack of sleep and from thoughts of Beth. Is this what people meant when they said they were lovesick? Daryl ran upstairs, back through the attic and back into the office of the dress store. He half expected to find Beth curled up on the floor, but the office was empty. Adrenaline surged through him as he rushed down the hall to the dressing room she had been in earlier.

Daryl pushed the door open quietly. One candle still burned. The others had gone out. As he approached, he saw it was one with the Virgin Mary painted on the glass. Beth was curled up on a pile of white fabric in front of the mirrors. She was wearing a different white dress than the one she had on when he was watching her. This dress had a lace overlay that was embroidered with flowers and birds and a pink ribbon was tied just under her breasts. She had put on a pair of long white gloves and draped a furry white coat over her shoulders for warmth. Her hair was unbound and she had clipped a sparkly star shaped hair ornament on the side of her head.

Daryl knelt before her. The same feeling he had on the roof, the same feeling from a lot of his dreams, came rushing back to him and he was terrified to touch her again. She didn't look mortal and he felt like he was going to be punished by the gods for even daring to be in her presence right now. Slowly, he reached a hand out towards her shoulders. Her eyes shot open and he nearly jumped ten feet back. She mumbled his name sleepily as she sat up and slowly became human again. Daryl took her hand and helped her to her feet.

“C'mon, there's somethin' I wanna show ya,” he said.

Daryl led her down the stairs. He had planned on just giving her the ring right then and there, but when he saw the first pale orange light of dawn flooding through the window, he decided on something else. He unbarred the door and led her down the sidewalk. The white silk heels she had put on scraped and clicked against the sidewalk, echoing off the brick buildings. When they reached the sand, he carried her the rest of the way, setting her down a few feet from where the waves were lapping at the shore.

She kicked off her shoes and walked closer to the sea, the white dress trailing in the wet sand. She stopped when the surf rushed forward and enveloped her ankles, soaking the hem of the dress, causing it to cling to her legs. She had her back to him, but he knew she was smiling.

The sun was rising above the point where murky gray-blue met pale indigo. The world was turning to fire. Her dress was no longer white, but a glowing deep orange. She rotated her upper body to look back at him just as the sun had risen to a point where it was just behind her head, giving her a halo, a sun-disk crown like the Ancient Egyptian Gods. He could see an overlay of the antlers she had held up to her head the night before last, see them shooting up from either side of her head to cradle the blood orange disk. She was absolutely terrifying in that second and he cowered before her.

Daryl was frozen and all thoughts of giving her that ring or telling her how he felt about her had gone. The sound of his heart pounding in his chest drowned out the sound of the waves. He could see her lips moving, but he couldn't hear what she was saying. She held out a hand, beckoning him, but his feet hand sunken into the sand and all his strength wasn't enough to move them.

The sun climbed higher, so that it was just barely kissing the top of her head. The vibrant red-orange glow she had was mellowing out to a golden yellow. He could feel his heart rate calming down a bit. After a few more minutes, the sun had risen higher still and no longer touched her at all and her coloring had almost returned to normal. She still retained a tiny amount of that unearthly glow, but he was sure that she was human once again.

Daryl lurched forward, surprised by the sudden ability to move his legs again and came to stand next to her. She slipped a gloved hand into his.

“Thanks for wakin' me for this,” she breathed.

“Well, after last night, I figured it was the least I could do.”

“I'm sorry I got upset,” she paused and he could tell she was reaching for the right words, “I wasn't upset at you. I was pissed off at this world, mad about all the things I have to miss out on because of it.”

Daryl nodded. He already had guessed as much, but it didn't stop him from wanting to do something to make her feel better. He considered telling her she wasn't missing out on much. So what if she didn't get to go on a bunch of dates with assholes like Merle or Jimmy. So what if she didn't get to marry someone. Didn't most marriages used to end in divorce anyways?

“Maybe you're not missing out. Maybe it's jus' gonna be different for you. Better,” he said after taking a deep breath. It was better for him. This was better than anything he could have ever imagined before the turn.

Beth looked up at him and smiled, that smile that was fucking beautiful and full of a word that he knew now--love.

He felt something small and hard shift in his vest pocket. He wondered if he still need the ring to apologize for cutting up the dress and decided that he didn't. He thought about just tossing it into the ocean, but changed his mind. He'd hang onto it for another day, maybe as an apology for the next time he did something stupid. It wasn't the time to give it to her anymore, but it was the right time for something else, something he should have said a long time ago, but only just recently had a word for.

The foamy surf was pounding against his worn boots and against the hem of her dress. He reached for the words, trying to remember what he had said in his dream, trying to decide if he should beat around the bush or just outright say it. He cleared his throat and she tore her eyes away from the water to look at him.

“Beth, there's somethin' I need to tell you and it's been true for awhile now.”

“You don't have to say it Daryl. I can feel it,” she said, her cheeks flushing pink as she quickly turned to look back out over the water.

“I know, but I want to,” he paused. He felt like he was standing at the top of a cliff getting ready to jump off without a parachute.

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. His mind was working frantically, trying to come up with a way to embellish the words, cutting and pasting bits of the example Glenn had given in his dream last night, but in the end, the words slipped out naked and unadorned and he knew they were enough on their own. They were strong and true and they didn't need anything extra to make them seem more so.

“I love you,” he said finally. He felt immensely better having said it. It was done. The relief was short lived though and the anxiety was ramping back up again as he waited for her to say something.

 


	29. Twenty Nine

A wave of ice cold water crashed against Beth's ankles. Her toes were already numb from the few minutes she had stood in the surf watching the sunrise. All around her, gulls picked at the remains of corpses in various states of decay that had been washed up by the tides and many of which were half buried in the gritty sand. The ocean was a monstrous gray-blue expanse that swallowed up the world before her. The waves were the same color as Daryl's eyes and he now stood staring down at her waiting for a response.

Her head felt as empty as the sky above them and at the same time, as infinitely deep as the body of water in front of them, so deep she knew she'd never touch the bottom. All the confusion and noise from the crashing waves, the screaming gulls, from the afternoon she spent kissing in an art gallery, from the night she spent sobbing and trying on dresses had been pulled away, taken from her by the sea. She reached down and picked up the only thing that remained—three words strung neatly together.

_I love you._

Had he really said it? Maybe the sound of the waves crashing into the sand had obscured his voice and she had heard wrong. Her heart was fluttering wildly, beating its wings against her ribs, begging her to set it free.

_Maybe it's gonna be different for you. Better._

The wind coming off the water was sprinkling her face with salty drops—no it wasn't that, she was crying.

_Heaven is a place on Earth with you._

The man next to her was whispering her name, trying to call her back from the planet she was currently on, the one inside her head, the one where it was just Beth. She let him carry her back down to this world because for all its brokenness, for all its cracks, mismatched pieces, for all its pain and death and walkers, it was the one she inhabited with him. This was the only world she wanted to live in ever again.

The waves crashed into her again, this time hitting her just below her knees and she swayed on her feet. She grasped for the words, for the perfect ones to say back to him. She had never told a man that she loved him. She never said it to Jimmy or Zach. She tried to remember every romantic comedy and chick flick she ever watched with Maggie, trying to find that perfect one-liner. The few she could remember fell pitifully short. Maybe words weren't enough, maybe they never could be. It was hard to put words to her feelings for him. It was like trying to explain the beauty and complexity of the universe in a single word. It just couldn't be done. Something so massive, so intricate, so special, so one-of-a-kind, it could never be wrapped up with a single word.

A hundred songs were filtering through her brain, every love song she had heard in her life. Beth considered singing something, but she was scared her voice would shake and again none of the songs quite fit. They weren't enough.

She needed to think faster because the anxiety was written all over Daryl's face. She looked past his cheek and down the beach. They stood together on the shoreline of infinity. Together, they held everything in the palms of their hands. The world held its breath waiting for her to close her fingers around it, over top of Daryl's, by verbalizing her response. It was probably best to just keep it simple. After all, the world had been reduced to its lowest common denominator, survival—food, water, shelter. Keep breathing. Keep living. There were no more movies and the only songs left were the ones she sang and the ones nature made, the surf lapping the beach, the leaves shuddering in their trees, the birds that darted overhead as she and Daryl walked hand-in-hand through the forest on their way back to the cabin with a rabbit she had shot with his crossbow flopping against her leg.

Finally, the words came, drawn forth by that last image.

“I love you too, Daryl. I have for a long time. Since before we left the prison.”

She had only planned on saying the first five words, but the others rolled out after them and she couldn't stop them anymore than she could stop the flow of tears last night. It was all true and it felt good to say it. The kind of love she felt for him back then was different though. It had started as a strange little seed, planted on a whim, whispered to every night under the stars, until one morning she woke to find a fully grown tree stretching its limbs across the sky, blocking out everything else, strong, real, and unavoidable.

“Same. Didn't have a word for it then though,” he mumbled, looking down at where her gloved hand was still in his. His other hand came up and brushed away her tears.

“A word for it?”

“Never been in love before.”

“Really?” She felt a little surprised.

“Really.”

“I'm glad I get to be your first then. You're mine too.”

He opened his mouth, but then closed it. She guessed he was probably going to ask about Jimmy and Zach, but realized he already knew the answer to the question he was going to ask her.

She sank to the sand and pulled her knees to her chest. Daryl sat down behind her, holding her between his legs, his head resting on her shoulder so that the stubble on his cheek brushed against her face.

“Are ya glad we came here? Saw it up close?” he asked.

“Mmhmm. This has been the best vacation ever.”

“Still don't see what's so special about it—the ocean. Jus' like a big lake.”

“No. It's not like a big lake. The feeling of it's different. The smell. I can't explain it just _is_.”

He was quiet for a minute and she heard him take in a deep breath as if he was testing her words. He let it out and it stirred the hair against her cheek.

“Kinda like us, huh?”

“Hmm?”

“We're different now too. Different than we were when we left the prison.”

“In a good way. I hope,” she said with a laugh that was half a sigh.

“Yeah. We're stronger. Both us.”

A gull shrieked and swooped down a few feet away from them to pick at a skull that still had a little flesh clinging to it.

“Just curious, what made ya finally want to say it?” Beth asked.

“A dream.”

“Yeah?”

“It's stupid. I was at a pizza place with Glenn, Rick, and Michonne and they told me I needed to tell you.”

“Oh really? I had a dream you and I went to see a movie with Maggie, Glenn, and Carl. Glenn asked if you had said the 'L' word to me yet. Glenn said we were clueless, but I think we didn't need to say it. We already knew we loved each other.”

“Hmpf. Glenn needs to stop meddlin' in our dreams.”

They both laughed at that and she threw her head back onto Daryl's shoulder.

“You're shivering. We should get back up there and finish explorin' and head back.

“Awww, but I don't want our vacation to be over,” Beth whined.

He helped her to her feet and helped her brush the sand off the back of her dress. She repaid him in kind, making sure all of it fell off his jeans.

“It's jus' the end of _this_ vacation. There's gonna be more,” he said.

“Where are we gonna go next?” She was grinning like an idiot again, but she couldn't contain how happy and hopeful she felt.

“Anywhere we want, sweetheart.”

Beth leaned in so that her lips just barely brushed over his. He closed the tiny gap and sealed his promise with a kiss. She was overcome with giddiness again and this time it wasn't because Daryl was pushing her up an aisle in a cart. They walked back up the beach, Beth with her shoes in one hand and Daryl's hand in the other.

When they got back up to the town, Daryl went in the dress shop to retrieve their things. He was uneasy about leaving Beth outside on the street, but she reassured him she could take care of herself. She had a good teacher, after all, the best, in fact. While she waited, she wandered up the sidewalk and stopped in front of a peculiar little shop.

The window display featured a busty female mannequin in a skimpy maid outfit bent over a red pedestal with her arms handcuffed behind her back and a male mannequin holding a whip and pressing his hips into the ass of the other mannequin. Several brightly colored dildos were propped up on smaller pedestals at the front of the window. Beth knew she should probably just wait outside for Daryl, but she was curious and she had never been in a shop that sold sex toys before, let alone owned a sex toy. She always just used her fingers when she wanted to get off.

Beth tried the door and it popped open. She called out with her knife in her hand, but nothing responded. She took a foam fist down off the wall and used it to keep the door from shutting all the way and to let Daryl know where she had gone if he got back before she could have a quick look around.

The shop was tiny and cramped. The walls were painted black with red trim and were jammed from floor to ceiling with all manner of lingerie, vibrators, dildos, oils and lubes and all sorts of things that Beth never knew existed up until that moment. Like what the hell was a cock ring? Or ben wa balls? She turned over the plastic package in her hand trying to make sense of it. Whatever they were, they looked kind of painful. She set the package down and turned to the center of the room where several different display models of vibrators and dildos were set up.

Beth picked up a few of them, wrapped her fingers around them to see how they felt and wondered which one was closest to Daryl's size. She couldn't really tell with his jeans in between them, but the few times he had rubbed his erection against her, he felt pretty big. She looked at the toys at the far end of the shelf which were all quite large and felt anxious. Maggie had said her first time hurt. Was hers going to hurt too?

She heard the door open, but didn't look up. She figured it was just Daryl, until she smelled that familiar rotting stench. Sallow yellow fingers grabbed at her arm and she had to use all her strength to keep it from biting her. She couldn't reach her knife so she grabbed one of the hard plastic objects on the shelf. Her arm shook as she pushed it through the walker's eye. She shoved the corpse off of her and fell back against the wall causing several packages to rain down from above. The door flew open again and she held the vibrator out like it was a knife.

“Jesus, Beth! What the hell are ya doing?” Daryl said as he burst into the shop.

He looked around and his face quickly turned red. Blood stained the white dress she was wearing and she was still holding the vibrator. She quickly let it drop to the floor, completely embarrassed. Packages of handcuffs, anal beads, dildos, and lingerie littered the floor by her feet. Daryl bent down and picked up a few.

“I was curious,” she said shyly, looking at her feet.

“You ever...with one of these,” he mumbled.

“What?” She glanced up for half a second to see he was holding a package with a rather large dildo in it. She quickly shook her head, “Nope, only ever done it with my hands.”

Daryl grunted and she heard him toss down the packages he was holding. She continued her walk around the shop, sweating now that Daryl was following her and watching her curiously. She could hear him putting something in the backpack every now and then and wondered what he was taking. They made a full circuit around the store and left it.

The wind had picked up outside and the sun was hidden behind heavy purple-blue clouds. They hurried into the next shop as a few heavy drops began to pelt down. This shop was as cluttered as the sex toy one, but with mugs, shot glasses, t-shirts, magnets, and all kinds of souvenirs. Beth picked out two matching t-shirts with the name of the town on them and two mugs with a picture of the state of Georgia and peaches on them. Daryl took a key chain and put the motorcycle key on it. They found a few bags of chips at the back of the shop and added those to their backpack which was quite full now. They both agreed that they would head back soon.

By the time they left the souvenir shop, the rain had turned into an icy downpour and the wind was blowing even harder. Their clothes were soaked in a matter of minutes. Daryl pulled her inside a little yellow house, which turned out to be a bed and breakfast. They cleared the rooms and disposed of the two walkers they found in the downstairs bedroom. The walls in the kitchen and living room had a few holes in them and when she ran her flashlight along the ceiling, she could see it was stained brown from water damage. The upstairs rooms were in better shape, so that's where Beth set up their things.

She picked a cozy room with a fireplace and a big fluffy bed with a bright yellow comforter. The room had a small balcony that looked out toward the ocean. The room was furnished with heavy polished dark wood furniture—a large wardrobe, dresser, two nightstands, and a round table and two chairs. A black bear skin rug was thrown across the boards in front of the fireplace. On top of the dresser was a little basket full of soaps, shampoos, towels, mints, two bottles of wine, some strawberry jam, fancy chocolates, and crackers.

Beth took out one of the saint candles, placed it on the table and lit it. She found two dusty glasses in the top drawer of the dresser. She opened the wine and poured some into each glass. It was a vibrant red one. She had no idea if it was any good because she had never had wine before. She set out the chocolates and the jam and crackers. They hadn't eaten breakfast and it was probably close to noon by now. Her stomach was rumbling now that the nervous excitement from earlier had passed.

She could hear Daryl moving around downstairs, probably making sure the place was secure and setting up an alarm system. She flung open the wardrobe and was surprised that someone had left clothes in there, including several ties, button down shirts and a man's suit. She closed it when she heard Daryl's boots on the stairs.

“Hey,” he said appearing in the doorway, “Found some fire wood.”

“I found us some lunch,” Beth said nodding at the table.

They sat together on the bear skin rug, drying themselves while they munched on crackers and chocolate and drank wine.

“I stayed in a place like this once,” Beth told him, taking a long sip of wine. It was tart and sweet and easier to drink than the moonshine.

“Oh yeah?”

“In Gettysburg on a trip with my mom and dad and Maggie. It was the summer before Maggie went off to college.”

“Gettysburg, isn't that the place where some big Civil War battle took place? I saw it on TV once. America's Most Haunted Places.”

“Yeah, that's the place. That's not why my dad wanted to go there though. He wanted to go because he was a huge Civil War buff. He drove us around the battlefields all day, stopping to look at every monument and statue and lecturing us on it. My parents weren't interested in doin' any of the ghost tours.”

“Let me guess, you and Maggie were.”

“I was scared, but Maggie made me go with her. My parents were havin' a romantic dinner alone and we had nothin' better to do 'sides sit around our room,”

“Hmpf. If I was there, I woulda held your hand.”

“Daryl, if you were there, ya woulda went to jail because I was thirteen then.”

“Does it bother you?”

“What?”

“Our age difference?”

She shook her head, “No. Why would it? My mom was almost twenty years younger than my dad.”

Beth had never thought about it much. She hadn't even thought to ask him how old he was and she was a little scared to know just how big the gap between their ages was because she had a feeling it was going to be more than she thought.

“Does it bother you?” she asked him.

“A little bit yeah. Makes me feel kind of guilty.”

“Don't. It's not like your some dirty old pervert, forcin' yourself on me. I'm with ya, cause I wanna be,” she paused and looked down, blushing, feeling that fluttering again and biting her lip as she prepared to say the words for a second time today, “I'm with ya cause I love you.”

He stared silently into the fire and she noticed that he had bags under his eyes. She guessed he hadn't slept last night, but she had no idea what he was up to all that time. She thought about asking, but he opened his mouth to speak before she could.

“What happened when you and Maggie went on the haunted tour thing?”

“The one Maggie picked was a tour of Jennie Wade's house. She was killed during the Battle of Gettysburg while she was bakin' bread.”

“How? The oven explode or somethin'?”

“A stray bullet went through two doors and hit her in the shoulder blade if I remember right. They had to keep her body in the basement until the fightin' stopped so they could bury her.”

“Did ya see any ghosts on the tour?”

“Nah, but the house had this really creepy feelin' to it. And they still had the door that the bullet went through. They said if a woman puts her ring finger on her left hand through the bullet hole she would get married within like a year or two. Maggie did it. Obviously it didn't work.”

“You didn't do it?”

“I did. Obviously it didn't work for me either, not like I thought it would.”

“You wanna though?”

“Wanna what?”

“Get married.”

_Is he askin' or somethin'?_

She felt confused all of a sudden and tried to find a careful response.

“I did yeah. Always have. Still do. Don't think it's gonna happen though.”

“Why not?”

“Cause look at the way the world is. There's no one to even invite.”

“Maggie and Glenn still got married. Ain't no reason why ya can't.”

“I guess so. What about you? You never wanted to get married before the turn?”

“Nah. Wasn't somethin' I ever thought about.”

“What about Merle? Did he ever want to get married?” she laughed, guessing what the answer would probably be.

Daryl grew quiet and his face darkened and he frowned.

“Once he did. When he was young, maybe twenty-four or five. He was datin' this girl for a couple years. He really liked her. Didn't cheat on her or nothin'. He was gonna ask her. He got her a real nice ring, real expensive. He had to move a lot coke to get it.”

“What happened?”

“She said no.”

“What?! Never heard of anyone sayin' no to a marriage proposal before.”

“Well she did. Broke up with him too. Said she was tired of him always bein' high or drunk.”

“Oh.”

“He said he was gonna quit for her, but he couldn't. Never seen the poor bastard so heartbroken. Didn't get outta bed for a week. Just laid there drinkin' twenty-four seven.”

“Poor Merle. If I woulda been there I woulda brought him a pint of cookie dough ice cream.”

“Cookie dough ice cream?”

“Maggie always said it was the only cure for a broken heart. I always knew when I came home from school and saw her in the kitchen with a big spoon and a tub of ice cream in front of her that she had lost another one.”

“I woulda kicked his ass.”

“Who's?”

“The prick that hurt Maggie.”

“You'd be kickin' ass for awhile. It's a long list,” she sighed, “We should try harder to find them. They're our family.”

“They are. And we will. When it warms up, we should think about leavin' the cabin. There's gotta be other safe places and Rick and Maggie gotta be out there somewhere.”

“I can't wait to see my sister's face when the two of us walk up to her holdin' hands and ya lean over and kiss me,” she giggled.

“I just hope she doesn't shoot me.”

“I think she'll be shocked, but she loves ya. You're family. Ya have been since the farm.”

The sound of something metal clattering to the floor startled them and Daryl reluctantly stood up, grabbing his crossbow.

“I'm gonna go check it out,” he said, “Stay here and change out of that dress. It's still soaked. You're gonna get sick.”

She opened the wardrobe again and was about to grab one of the white button down shirts when another crash from downstairs made her jump. Daryl swore loudly. Her heart felt like it was going to explode in her chest and without thinking she ran down the stairs, tripping and nearly falling on the skirt of the dress. Her feet splashed into a pool of murky brown water at the foot of the stairs that wasn't there before.

Rain was pouring in through a hole that had opened up in the ceiling a few feet from the stairs. Daylight trickled in and reflected off the pool making shimmering ripples on the floral wallpaper. The smell of rain, of damp leaves, rotting wood, and mud filled the room. Beth put her hands out and tipped her head back. She felt like she was nine years old again, back at the farm on one of those summer afternoons when the sky would just open up seemingly out of nowhere and she and Maggie would run outside of the sweltering house to cool off.

Daryl was watching her from the archway that led into the kitchen. He grunted and smiled at her. His boots sloshed through the puddle as he came to stand in front of her and copy her stance. A clock chimed as the floor in the living room creaked and shifted. Beth locked her hands behind Daryl's neck and pulled herself closer. The floorboards warped under her feet as she stood on tip-toe so that her lips lined up with his. Rain pelted their faces as they stood in the solitary beam of light in the dark room. Water dripped from the shaggy piece of hair that hung in Daryl's eye, fell onto Beth's cheek and ran down her chin. Drops clung to her eyelashes and made her blink them closed.

Daryl's thumb was stroking her cheek, smoothing away the drops of rain. His lips brushed against hers and she could tell he was still hesitant, like he was afraid she'd pull away from him and slap him for daring to show her affection in that way. She returned the kiss eagerly and his shoulders lost their tenseness and he slid his tongue along her bottom lip. Beth lost her footing as she went to open her mouth for him. He caught her before her forehead could slam into his face. They broke apart and stared at each other breathlessly. She was soaked again and shivering.

“Was this what all that noise was?” she asked, looking up at the hole in the roof.

Daryl nodded, “Let's go back upstairs.”

“Shouldn't we move to another buildin'?”

“Not unless the roof starts fallin' apart upstairs. We'll leave as soon as it stops rainin'.”

He bent over and hooked his arm under her knees. In the dark corner of the living room, the clock had begun to tick again. She could hear the pendulum swinging back and forth inside the wet wood case. Water trickled down her calves and dripped from her toes and from the train of the dress as he carried her up the stairs. He set her down in the doorway and she reached to undo the zipper on the back of the dress. His breath stirred the hair over her ear as he brushed aside her fingers and unzipped the dress.

“I coulda got it,” she said stubbornly.

“Didn't think you were ever gonna take that dress off unless I did it for ya.”

“You're right. I won't take it off unless you do it,” she teased, pretending to reach for the zipper to zip it back up.

His hands shot out and pushed hers away. She turned around to face him. She pulled the straps of the dress down over the rounds of her shoulders and then let her hands drop to her sides. She waited for him to take control.

“Go on then,” she said.

He brushed his hands over her shoulders and his fingers curled around the beaded straps. He slowly peeled the dress down over her pink and white lace bra, over her stomach, over her hips, over the pink panties that came from the package she took from the big box store, over her thighs, and her knees where he finally let it drop the rest of the way to the floor. He held out a palm and she took it, stepping towards him over the folds of the crumpled dress. She reached for the button on the collar of his shirt.

“Your turn,” she told him.

His hands wrapped around her wrists.

“Beth,” he said in his warning tone.

“You're gonna get sick, _again,_ if ya stay in that,” she warned him.

He grumbled something and put his hands back at his sides. She unbuttoned his shirt just as slowly and as carefully as he'd rolled down her dress. She tugged it over his shoulders and down his arms and let it drop to the floor. He shifted his arms uncomfortably in front of his chest, trying to hide some of his scars.

Beth didn't look up. Her fingers were already pulling his belt through the buckle and when it was open she reached for the button on his jeans. He stopped her again and unbuttoned them himself. She laid down on the rug in front of the fireplace. He joined her a minute later now wearing only a pair of red plaid boxers. There was another clatter from downstairs. They didn't bother to go check it out this time.

Daryl laid on his back next to her, one arm bent behind his head and the other one draped across his chest, his hand resting on his stomach just above the waistband of his boxers. Beth rolled onto her side and put her head on his chest. She stretched her arm up and across his chest until she found his ear. She stroked his scalp behind it, scratching it with her nails. She dragged her fingernails down the side of his neck, just barely touching his skin. When she reached his collarbone she retraced her path back to his ear and then back down again, over and over to the rhythm of the ticking clock that was drifting up the stairs.

He shifted as he removed the hand that was under his head and draped it over her arm. He curled his fingers in towards his palm and began to trace the curve of her shoulder down over her bicep to her elbow before going back up again using the same light touch she was using on his neck. The patter of the rain was picking up and slowly drowning out the ticking of the clock.

The next time her fingers hit his collarbone she followed the length of it, shoulder to breastbone, making sure she didn't hover too long on any of the raised lines of skin that crossed the bone in a few spots. He drew his hand back over her shoulder blade and along curve of her shoulder and up the back of her neck.

She threw her leg over his and rubbed it up and down against his. The stubble that was starting grow back on her leg snagged on his hairy one. Downstairs, the hollow sound of wood hitting wood broke the monotonous noise of water and the crackling fire. The rain was picking up again. She could hear it pounding the puddle at the foot of the stairs. Her heart was racing and when she glanced between her breasts, she could see the skin there bouncing up and down with each rapid beat.

This was more than she had done with Jimmy or Zach. She had never been undressed with either of them. Jimmy had tried squeezing her breasts through her shirt, but he was rough and it hurt. Zach had touched her breasts a few times too, but always through her bra. She had been constantly terrified that her father would come hobbling past her cell while she and Zach were in the middle of something so she refused to let him do any more than that. Making out, that touching through her clothes, and a little bit of grinding was the extent of her sexual experience with the opposite sex before she left the prison. She wondered if Daryl had ever touched anyone like this before. She knew he was more sexually experienced than she was, but she didn't know if this touching was sexual. If it wasn't, it was still making her wet and wanting to slide a hand between her legs and apply pressure for relief.

Daryl ran his thumb down her spine and she felt goosebumps raise on her arms. She dragged her fingers down the center of his chest to his bellybutton where her hand bumped into the one he had blocking the path to his boxers. He lifted his hand and wrapped it around her hip. His other hand tightened around her upper arm and he shifted his weight, pushing her onto her back. He froze as the floor downstairs creaked and groaned causing the clock to chime. His eyes were dark and shimmered in the firelight. She could see a question behind them and she strained her ears trying to hear what it was, trying to feel it. He grunted and she hummed in response and she knew somehow they had come to an agreement, an answer. She slid her arm under his neck and he nuzzled his face against her shoulder. The stubble on his cheek scraped the tender skin there and she let out a shuddering breath. His breath ghosted down over her chest, giving her more goosebumps.

Daryl's chest was pressed into the side of her ribs, but he kept his hips away from her which could only mean he had an erection or was getting one. He had been doing this for weeks now at the cabin. She supposed he thought he was doing a good job of hiding his early morning erections from her, but it only made it more obvious to her when he had one.

Beth shot a quick glance down at his boxers and it was painfully obvious. The thin loose fabric didn't hide much. She wished he would press his hips against the side of her leg. It wouldn't bother her. Why would he think it would? She had been wet when she threw her leg over his. She didn't know if he could feel it through her panties and the fabric of his boxers where they covered his thigh. She reached around in her head trying to figure out how to tell him he didn't have to keep trying to hide it, but words scurried frantically out of her reach and she sighed into the dark empty space in her mind.

“Daryl?” she said, barely above a whisper.

“Hmm?”

Her arm shot out and she dug her fingers into the side of his hip, just above his boxers and pulled until he moved closer.

“That's better,” she mumbled.

“What's better?”

“Ya don't have to keep your hips away from me. I know you're hard. It's ok.”

Before he could argue, she grabbed his wrist and stretched his arm over her stomach and dropped his hand on top of her panties. Just the weight and heat of his palm there was enough to make her wetter as she stared down between her breasts where the little pink bow on her bra was quickly rising and falling with her increased breathing. She shuddered and tilted her hips very slightly upwards into his hand.

“Daryl,” his name fell from her lips and she had no more control over it than she had over the movements her hips were making.

“Beth,” he groaned as he pressed his middle finger into the damp fabric between her thighs.

The floor creaked and shuddered down in the living room. A series of crashes rang out as a cabinet tipped and glasses and plates shattered one by one against the boards. The rain was almost deafening. It thudded wildly on the roof and in through the hole at the bottom of the stairs.

Beth's skin was crackling with electricity. Everywhere Daryl's fingers had touched her was on fire. She couldn't think anymore, only feel and it was overwhelming beautiful. She was moaning and whimpering. Daryl's breath was coming in fast pants across her collarbone. He thrust against the side of her thigh, grinding up and down and pressing the length of his erection against her. He stroked the fabric that covered her clit a few times with a painfully light touch. Her fingers dug into his back and she barely noticed that her hand was covering one of his scars.

Daryl let out a pained groan and she relaxed her hand and moved it off of his scar. She slid her hand down his back as far as she could reach and then dragged her fingernails back up his spine, just lightly skimming his skin. His hand traveled farther down and his fingers burrowed between her thighs, forcing them apart. He mimicked the touch she was using on his back, just lightly, barely grazing, running the lengths of her inner thighs with his fingertips. Her skin was covered in goosebumps and she was panting now. Several loud crashes below caused them both to jump. More wood clattered to the floorboards and the sound of rain pelting the hard floor became even more intense.

He pulled his hand back from where it rested a few inches above her knee and continued up to her stomach, exploring the skin around her bellybutton. His fingers rubbed small circles inwards, sending up little gasps every now and then when he hit a ticklish spot, until one of his finger fell into the dip of her bellybutton. He raked his hand across the flesh under bottom of her ribs where they jutted out over her stomach like a cliff that was slowly being eroded by the ocean.

His leg had fallen over hers and his knee was pressed against her inner thigh. He didn't seem to notice or care anymore that his erection pushed into the side of her thigh and every few seconds his hips gave an involuntary thrust against her. At least, it felt involuntary to her, more like a twitch than a planned movement. His palm traced up her side, stopping on the elastic side of her bra. She rolled in towards him to give herself enough space to reach an arm behind her back and unhook her bra. He supported her by placing a hand under her hip, but it didn't stay there long. He squeezed her ass and pulled her hips against his, thrusting his erection against the damp fabric of her panties. Her fingers let go of her bra, which she was struggling to remove, and gripped his shoulders, forcing his face between her breasts. They both whimpered at the same moment and she felt Daryl's mouth wet and hot on her skin as she silently begged him not to stop because the pressure and the rubbing between her legs was all she wanted—all she needed right now.

“God, Beth, fuck,” he breathed into her skin.

“Daryl. Please,” she mumbled. Those were the only two words she could manage. It was almost impossible to speak coherently at this point.

_Oh god yes. Take me. Devour me._

He continued to rub against her and she threw her head back in ecstasy. The rain was still falling unrelentingly. A gust of wind blew down the hallway and caused the door to slam shut. Daryl pulled back and looked at her. His lips were wet and glistened in the orange light. He leaned over her on his elbow. His fingers reached for the strap of her bra. He pulled down one side and she pulled down the other one at the same time. He tossed the bra away and her nipples hardened from the sudden rush of cool air against them.

“You cold?” Daryl growled.

She shook her head. She was burning up if anything, but her skin was covered in goosebumps and she was trembling. He watched her for awhile as if he was trying to make sure she was telling the truth or deciding if he should pick her up and throw her on the bed. She knew if that happened, there would be no going back. They would fall apart completely like this house was trying to.

Beth kept her eyes down and ran her fingers over his chest. She guessed he started to feel self-conscious because he slowly lowered himself and laid his head back onto her shoulder. His forehead pressed into her cheek as she wrapped her arm around his back again.

He traced her ribs slowly, one at a time, stopping at the ones just under her breasts. Using only his thumb, he followed a rib in to her breastbone and up to her collarbone. He stroked that path several times, managing to completely avoid her breasts even though she could see he was staring at them from where his head lay on her shoulder. He looked tired. His eyes were half closed and still had bags under them. She still didn't know what he was up to last night, but it was becoming more and more evident that he hadn't slept.

Outside the rain was falling more gently now and she felt her breathing and his begin to slow.

Beth's hand was stroking his back. His muscles would tense up every time her fingers snagged on a scar, but each time they quickly relaxed and he only seemed to melt deeper into her skin. Eventually his shoulder had fallen onto her chest and his hand came to rest somewhere along the side of her ribs. His breath warmed the skin above her breasts, hot and slow, and she guessed he had fallen asleep. She tilted her head and kissed the top of his forehead where his hair hung greasy and slightly damp from the rain earlier.

Beth wasn't as tired, having gotten at least a few hours curled up on that pile of dresses last night. The soft trickle of rain combined with the warmth from the fireplace was making her weary though and her eyes were becoming dried out from the heat. She closed her eyes and curled her fingers through the bear fur rug beneath them. Soon the heavy feeling in her chest pulled her under and she joined him in sleep.

A horrible crumbling crashing bang in the kitchen downstairs startled them both from the deep sleep they had sunken into. Beth didn't remember dreaming for once and she felt well rested even though she was sure only a few hours had passed.

Daryl had already untangled himself from her and was pulling on his jeans and doing up his belt. He threw his vest over his bare chest and picked up his crossbow. Beth stood up and stretched. Her back ached after sleeping on the floor. She looked around for something to put on, but her jeans and flannel shirt weren't in the backpack. Daryl must have put them in the bike's saddlebags along with the other stuff that wouldn't fit in the bag. She put her bra back on and threw on Daryl's shirt which was still slightly wet.

She walked out onto the landing. Since they had gone upstairs earlier, more holes in the roof above the living room had opened up. Daryl scrambled backwards through the archway that led to the kitchen. He slipped in the puddle at the foot of the stairs and fell back landing on his elbows. He was struggling to reload his crossbow. Five or six walkers poured out of the kitchen and reached for his legs. He managed to stab the first two with his knife. Beth reached for her swords, but she hadn't put her belt back on. She stumbled down the stairs, not sure what she was going to do, but she wasn't going to let him get bit.

“Beth! Get back!” he yelled, stabbing another one through the forehead.

“I'm not leaving ya! Not after what happened last time!”

The balusters on the railing were loose and broken in several spots. She reached for one and tugged at it until the wet wood twisted off in her fingers. She hit the walker that was trying to climb over the pile of bodies at the foot of the stairs. She didn't kill it but she knocked it back into a group of two or three other walkers and they became tangled for a second. She bent down and helped Daryl push the dead walkers off his legs.

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her up the stairs. When they got back to the room, he slammed the door and together they pushed the wardrobe over so it blocked the entrance to the room. She threw on their backpack and they climbed out onto the balcony. Moans and growls filled the night air as walkers flooded in through the damaged wall in the kitchen at the front of the house. Daryl was already climbing over the railing and down onto the back porch. He jumped down and held up his arms for her to throw the backpack. She dropped it down as quietly as she could and he set it in the wet grass next to him. He put his arms up again and beckoned to her.

The same fear she felt climbing down from the treehouse with her injured ankle swept over her again.

“Beth, come on. I got ya,” Daryl called to her in a loud whisper.

A twinge of pain shot through her ankle and the railing became an impassable barrier before her. Her hands shook on the railing. She could hear the walkers breaking through the wardrobe back inside the room. Daryl was pleading with her. Walkers were starting to flood in from the side yard. Daryl whispered something to her. She couldn't remember what, but it had her swinging her leg over the railing and slowly lowering herself down, her toes reaching for the porch railing. Her fingers slipped and she fell backwards, but strong arms wrapped around her as they fell together to the grass.

Daryl gave her a quick smile, the one that was full of pride and admiration, patted her back and led her to where the motorcycle was parked in the alley. He started it up and she climbed on.

They had to leave town a different way than they entered it because from the sounds of things, the main street was filled with walkers. The night was freezing cold and Beth was only wearing Daryl's shirt. Her body was too amped up to notice just how cold it was until her heart slowed down and stopped rapidly pumping her blood full of that elixir of survival that was comprised of adrenaline and anxiety and a little bit of something else too. That something else once was Maggie and her dad, but now it was Daryl, just Daryl.

Beth clung to him. Her arms were locked so tightly around his chest that she wasn't sure how he was still breathing. They flew down the dark pine needle covered road. The sky was still overcast and the clouds blocked out the moon and stars. The only light in the whole world came from the single headlight on the front of the motorcycle.

After an hour, Daryl pulled the bike off onto the gravelly shoulder. She stood barefoot in her underwear on the side of the road, while Daryl fished in the saddlebag for her jeans, flannel shirt, jacket, and her boots. She gave him back his shirt and donned the rest of her clothes.

They huddled together, squinting at the map, trying to figure out where the hell they were. Daryl thought they had turned north after leaving the town, but it was very dark and they had yet to see a sign letting them know what highway or road they were on.

Rain was starting to fall again in heavy icy sheets. They tucked the bike into the treeline and spent the rest of the night miserable, anxious, and shivering against each other under the tarp, but it wasn't so bad. They were alive. They were together. Those were both good reasons to smile as far as Beth was concerned.

 


	30. Thirty

Beth was right. They should have left that bed and breakfast the minute he discovered the roof was falling apart in places. He swore under his breath as he sat trying to keep the two of them warm in the unrelenting icy rain. It was hard to believe that a few hours ago he was secretly hoping that their little vacation could go on for a few more days as he lay next to her stroking her soft skin in the firelight.

His heart sped up thinking about that. He never knew just _touching_ someone could feel so _good._ The longer the touching had gone on, the more he was starting think that he might have actually been able to get off. He could have climbed on top of her and thrust between her thighs while she squeezed them together. That probably would have felt really good. Or he should have pulled her onto his lap and let her rock her hips over his like she did that first night they made out in the cabin. He would have gotten her off too at the same time by rubbing her or letting her touch herself or grind against him or however she wanted to. He wasn't sure exactly how to make her come, but he had a few ideas from having caught glimpses of her masturbating and from stuff he caught Merle watching when he was drunk. He felt a tiny bit of regret for not doing any of those things, but he had been exhausted after not sleeping the previous night and from the stress of telling her how he felt. On top of that, every time he heard the floor shifting and another piece of the roof collapsing downstairs, it sent a wave of anxiety through him. He was kind of glad it hadn't gone farther given how things ended up going with the kitchen wall collapsing and the influx of walkers.

Once they were back in the warmth and safety of the cabin, he wanted to try that again—just touching her like that. He wanted to run his fingers over her skin until he memorized every inch of it. He wanted to feel her tremble against him again when he was doing nothing more than lightly caressing her ribs. He wanted her to put his hand over her pussy so that he could feel that she was every bit as turned on as he was by the touching—fuck, he still had no idea how just touching her had made him so hard. It usually took someone stroking him for a good bit before he got an erection, but with her it was different. He had thought it before and he thought it again now—Beth was magick. He wanted to hear her moan his name, feel the way she shuddered as it fell from her lips in the same involuntary manner that her shivers and breathless gasps caused his hips to grind against the side of her thigh.

He drew her tightly to his side. The scars on his back were starting to burn and itch. He felt like he had failed her. They shouldn't been sitting here freezing in the rain—she shouldn't be sitting here freezing in the rain.

“I'm sorry, Beth,” he mumbled in her ear.

“Sorry for what?” she whispered, turning her head to look up at him.

“Sorry for this,” he said, gesturing to the darkness that surrounded them, “Sorry for us not havin' a roof over our heads tonight.”

“It's not your fault, Daryl. How can you possibly blame yourself?”

“I'm supposed to be takin' care of ya. Lookin' out for ya.”

She shook her head, “We're takin' care of each other.”

She cupped his face in her hands and drew his lips to hers. The kiss sent waves of warmth rushing over his skin and he kissed back with the same passion until she opened her mouth for him. He slid his tongue inside, licking along the inside of her bottom lip until her tongue shot forward to meet his. She still tasted like wine and chocolate. He wondered if he tasted the same. Probably since that was the last thing they ate.

The tarp crunched as Beth shifted around, trying to climb into his lap. His hands wrapped around her waist and he held her at arms length, out of habit. Her lips smacked as she broke the kiss.

“Ya gonna let me sit in your lap this time?” she asked.

“Dunno if it's a good idea,” he breathed.

“We're just making out and rubbing against each other. Nothin' else is gonna happen—at least not out here,” she giggled.

He straightened his legs so she could sit down, “Get up here, girl,” he said, pulling her into his lap.

She threw a leg over his lap so she was straddling him. He instantly thought of the dream where she was a stripper and was in this position with him. He was already hard from just _kissing_ her and now his dick throbbed against the heat of her through their jeans.

Her lips were still wet when she kissed him again. She ran her fingers through the back of his hair and he massaged her back until his hands came to rest just above her butt and because he had done it earlier and she didn't seem to mind, he moved them lower, cupping her ass and giving it a good squeeze. This caused her to rock her hips down into his. He leaned into her rocking and moved his hands up to her hips so he could guide her in it. Why he had tried to prevent her from doing this for weeks was beyond him. They were both fully clothed. There was nothing wrong with this. So what if he might end up coming in his jeans?

Her tongue was in his mouth again, sliding against his. He groaned against her lips.

Just kissing her and rubbing like this felt so fucking _good._  He had never thought much of kissing before. It was just something that sometimes, but not always, went along with sex and not a very exciting part of it either, but with her it was different, a kind of slow and beautiful torture. Maybe that was part of why he was holding himself back from fucking her. He liked the exquisite ache of knowing that the kiss wouldn't go further and that was ok.

He tightened his grip on her hips, slowing her pace. He couldn't see much in the dark, but he was imagining her in his head doing this back at the cabin, while both of them were in their underwear. He could see her arching her back and throwing her head back in ecstasy.

The snap of a twig breaking shattered that image and he reached for his crossbow. Beth slid off his lap and he bit back a whimper at the sudden lack of pressure on his dick. Leaves crunched, more branches clattered. They stood up and folded the tarp. Daryl walked the bike back onto the road. He guessed there was about ten or twenty of them moving through the darkness behind him. Time to go again. They would have to suck it up and ride in the rain.

He started the bike and could just make out the agitated growls over the roar of the engine. Beth climbed on behind him and they were off. He drove for hours. He knew they were only going farther north, but he didn't want to turn off somewhere and get lost or end up in a town that was overrun. This highway only seemed to lead deeper into the country.

By dawn they were flying past fields and orchards. The sun turned the pavement into a fiery molten orange and the shadow of the bike stretched long across the other lane. Beth was curled up against his back seeking protection from the bitter wind and icy rain. Both of their clothes were wet. The rain didn't stop until just before dawn. He felt her shift against his body and she leaned her head over his shoulder and kissed his cheek. His heart sped up and he was filled with an overwhelming warmth. If he could, he'd keep riding forever. Everything that mattered in the world was balanced perfectly on the bike.

Beth tugged on his vest and nodded towards a large crumbling brick building on the edge of an orchard. The building was covered in red ivy and the cross on the steeple was cracked and leaning towards one side. A faded sign stood along the road, one of those signs where they could change what it said by rearranging a set of plastic black letters. A few of them still clung to the sign, flapping in the November wind, a “B”, and two “D”'s. Daryl had no idea what the original message might have said. He was well versed in reading the stars. He knew them like the back of his hand, but he had never picked up a Bible in his life. He only knew the stories he saw replicated on TV, like the Garden of Eden or Noah's Ark.

He pulled off into the little gravel driveway that separated the church and the orchard. He drove around back and parked the bike. Beth climbed off and stood rubbing her thighs. He guessed they had probably gone numb from the long ride. That was ok though, he'd give her a nice long massage there later tonight.

A set of cement steps led up to the back door which was thrown open and flapping in the breeze. Daryl led the way with his crossbow raised and Beth followed just behind them, swords in hand. The door opened to a short tiled hallway. They checked the first door which led to a small office. A glass desk sat in the center of the room. A black computer monitor sat amongst the stacks of papers that detailed various community service projects, sermons, church member birthdays, anniversaries, and upcoming weddings. A row of filing cabinets lined one of the walls, but they were all locked. Daryl doubted there was anything worth taking in them anyways.

The two doors at the opposite end of the hallway were bathrooms. The women's bathroom was clean, but dusty. The men's bathroom was dilapidated and the doors were falling off the stalls. The roof had been leaking in a few spots. The white tiles were stained brown from water damage and stagnant water pooled in a few spots on the floor.

The very last door led out into the main room which was lined on either side by long wooden church pews. Mourning doves fluttered in the rafters. A lot of the pews were covered in bird shit and feathers. Torn Bible pages littered the floor. The red carpet that ran up the center aisle to the altar was fading and worn. An oversized bronze cross hung in an alcove on the back wall. Sunlight streamed in from the stained glass windows. Jesus' face had been smashed out of a couple of the murals created by the colored glass. A Bible stood open on the altar that was covered by a dusty white cloth and topped with two tall golden candle holders.

The front doors had been boarded shut and blocked off with a few pews. As he and Beth walked amongst the rows they uncovered several corpses and two or three walkers. They took care of the walkers and spent the better part of the morning dragging the corpses out through the backdoor where they piled them near the tiny wrought iron fence-ringed cemetery. He couldn't help but notice that she was doing an equal part of the lifting when they would move a corpse together. She really had gotten stronger physically.

The sun was high in the sky and the day had warmed up by the time they finished. Both of them were sweating from the effort of dragging bodies out and Beth had thrown off the ugly tan jacket and stood staring out over the orchard in her flannel shirt.

“Apples,” Beth mumbled, raising a hand to shield her eyes from the sun.

“What?” Daryl asked.

“The trees. They're apple trees.”

Her face held a certain sadness and he didn't doubt that she was thinking about her family, about the home she had lost. He laced his fingers through hers.

“You wanna see if there's still any on the trees?” he asked her.

It was late in the season, but he knew at least one or two kinds of apples came to fruit later in the fall. If these were those kind of apples, they might find a few still clinging to a tree here or there.

“Might be some. Pink Ladies come into season at the end of October,” she told him.

“Wanna take a walk and find out?”

She hesitated and nibbled on her bottom lip. Her brow furrowed.

“We should look at the map and figure out how to get home.”

“Ain't no rush. We can extend our vacation for another day or two.”

She looked uncertain, but she gave him a little smile and they began to walk down the rows of trees.

“My mom and dad used to do this every year—apple pickin'. It's silly, but I always thought I'd do this someday with my husband.”

“What am I your husband now?” he joked, trying to mimic the way she had teased him a few weeks ago when he asked her to pick out some clothes for him.

He was pleased to see her face reddened at that.

“Hmm,” she said, cocking her head to the side, “Maybe ya are. I already wash your clothes and take care of ya when you're sick.”

Now he was blushing. His fingers tightened around hers as they walked through the overgrown grass that separated the rows of trees.

“Is that what wives are supposed to do?” he asked.

Honestly, he wasn't sure. He had seen so little of his parents' relationship and what he had seen he had come to realize was far from the norm. His mom did all that stuff—cooking, cleaning, washing clothes—because if she didn't, she'd get slapped by his dad. His dad on the other hand never lifted a finger or did anything for his mom. Daryl didn't mind cooking for Beth and he wouldn't mind if she asked him to help with the laundry sometimes. He had taken care of her when she was injured and he sure as hell would take care of her if she was sick.

They were equal partners in all of this as far as he was concerned. He would help her with whatever she needed help with and he knew he could count on her to do the same. They made it work, just the two of them. Each of them just did what needed to be done, filled in where needed. If that's all it meant to be married, then they were well past that point in their relationship. He was sure there was more to it.

“It's part of it,” she answered.

“What else?”

“Be a best friend, I suppose. That's how my mom was to my dad. They were were best friends. She was always there for him when he needed support and encouragement or advice and he did the same for her.”

Daryl stopped walking and she wheeled around to face him. He had never thought much about having a best friend. In the world before the turn, he and Merle had a group of guys, mostly tweekers and drug dealers, that they regularly hung out with. They were good guys, the kind you could count on to bring you a six pack of beer when your woman dumped you or help you figure out what the fuck that sound was your car was making, but Daryl never considered any of them a best friend. Merle might have been. Rick might have been. Again, he never really thought about it and certainly never vocalized it to either of them.

“Are we best friends now?” he asked.

“You're my best friend,” she agreed, “Am I yours?”

He nodded slowly.

“Who was your best friend before me?” she asked.

“Merle, I suppose. Maybe Rick after he died. What about you?”

“Maggie. Carl was tryin' to edge her out though I think,” she laughed.

“Edge her out?”

“He spent a lot of time with me, usually goin' on 'bout the comics he was readin'. Probably cause he didn't have anyone else closer to his age.”

“Nah, I think it was more than that,” Daryl said smirking at her.

“What do ya mean?”

“I mean, I remember how he looked at ya. Can't blame him. He had good taste.”

The color in her cheeks deepened. He pressed his thumb into her cheek and dragged it across as if he could make the color vanish. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks as she looked down at his hand. Her smile widened.

“C'mon, honey,” she said after a few minutes, “We still gotta find some apples.”

He nodded and they kept walking. Most of the trees still had their leaves, but their fruit lay in rotting heaps around their trunks. Daryl squinted at the tops of the trees, trying to spot any apples that might still be clinging there. Next to him, Beth was doing the same, shielding her eyes from the sun with her free hand.

Her hand broke away from his and she sprinted forward, stopping at the base of a particularly tall tree.

“Up there!” she called, pointing at a few branches that reached for the white clouds that dotted the sky.

Daryl could just make out a few round pink fruits dangling among the green leaves that were spotted with brown. He turned his head from side to side, looking for an old ladder so they could get up there, but there was nothing. They would have to climb up there if they wanted the fruit. _Beth_ would have to climb up there because he doubted the branches would support his weight. Her face fell when she realized just how high up the apples were.

“Let's keep lookin'. Maybe there's some that are lower,” she said.

“You can't tell me ya ain't never climbed a tree before.”

“I have. It's just,” she paused.

“You're scared. Why?” he asked.

She shifted her weight to one leg.

“Is it hurtin' again?” he asked.

She hadn't complained of pain in her ankle in weeks. He figured it had fully healed by now, yet here she was avoiding putting weight on it.

“No. It's jus' I don't wanna hurt it again. What if I slip? What if I fall?”

“Ya won't. I'll catch ya,” he assured her, laying his hand on her shoulder and squeezing it, “And if ya do hurt it again, it'll be ok. I took care of ya before when it was injured. Ain't a big deal. I can do it again.”

“It is a big deal. Last time I coulda gotten taken by that asshole cop. And I was damn near useless for over a week.”

“Coulda, but ya didn't. You're strong. You survived.”

Beth was giving him that same terrified stare she had given him last night when he was calling to her to get her to climb over the railing and now he understood why. She looked up at the tree and he thought he could see her bottom lip trembling slightly. She bit it to stop it from shaking.

“C'mon. We'll find another tree,” he told her.

He gave her shoulder a gentle push, but her feet stayed planted. Her head was still tilted up towards those apples.

“No. I can do it,” she said stubbornly.

He grunted and nodded. He bent down and wrapped his arms around her knees and lifted her onto his shoulder to give her a boost onto one of the lower branches. She pulled herself up. The branch groaned slightly under her weight and she threw her arms around the trunk. Very shakily, she climbed up the branches. She was being overcareful. Daryl could tell by the way she tested every branch several times before moving her weight to it. Her nervousness was making him anxious and he was starting to wonder if he should have tried harder to stop her from going up there.

When she reached the top of the tree, she wound her arm around the trunk and stretched a trembling arm up towards a pink fruit. She stood on tip-toe and her whole body leaned into the stretch. He followed the lengths of her calves up the back of her thighs over the curve of her ass and the long lean muscles of her back up to her shoulders, her biceps to the tips of her slender fingers which grasped with an aching hunger for a touch of that red-pink skin.

A triumphant smile flashed across her lips as her fingers closed around the apple. The only sound in the world was a quiet little snap as she twisted the fruit until the stem broke. The branch bounced back and the leaves rustled against each other. The world let out the breath it had been holding in and a gust of wind shook the leaves and rattled the branches of every tree in the orchard. Beth let out a throaty laugh, one that sounded deeper than usual, almost sexual. She cupped the apple in her palm and looked down at him, her lips curving into a smile, not one of her usual big impish grins, but a softer one, the corners of her lips raised just ever-so-slightly, her lips parted as if she was going to kiss him, as if she was going to devour him.

So this was how Eve convinced Adam to eat that damned apple. No, Daryl wasn't Adam in this moment, he was the snake, the devil, who convinced Eve to climb that tree and pluck those apples.

“Catch,” she said, flicking her wrist.

Daryl lurched forward and held out his palms. The fruit smacked against them.

Beth's hand had relaxed on the trunk and she no longer clung to it for dear life. She picked the six remaining apples and tossed them down to Daryl before descending the branches with a graceful ease that she had lacked during her climb. She sat down when she got to the lowest branch and he wrapped an arm around her waist. Instead of lifting her down, he threw her over his shoulder and let her struggle against his back and slap his ass a few times as she protested for him to put her down. He gave in after a few minutes and set her down, running his hand up and over her ass as he did. She was smiling, laughing, and breathless and he was too. She had regained some of her former innocence and he saw glimmers of the girl that he had sat next to on a prison bunk months ago. They sank to the wet soil at the base of the tree, leaning against the trunk.

Beth rubbed one of the apples on the sleeve of her shirt. She pressed it against her lips and took a bite. She moaned against the skin of the fruit and her eyes fluttered closed. Juice gushed out and ran down her skin. It dripped from her chin onto her collarbone and slid down between her tits.

“How is it?” he asked, licking his lips without thinking.

She pressed the bitten apple into his palm. The juice mixed with her salvia oozed over his fingers making them sticky and wet. Before he could raise it to his mouth, her mouth covered his. Her fingers were wet, sticky and warm against his cheek. Her tongue pushed into his mouth, unapologetically, without asking for entrance. The apple slipped out of his fingers and rolled into the grass with a soft thud. He slid his tongue against hers, tasting the tart sweetness of the juice that coated her mouth. He straddled her lap and ran his hands down her sides until he found the hem of her shirt. He wanted to take her shirt off and lick her skin clean, but he was still hesitant. He pulled back and looked her breathlessly.

He curled his fingers around the collar of her shirt, just above the first button, well second button or third button. Beth always left the top couple undone so he could get the barest glimpse of her skin.

_Can I? Is it ok?_

A walker answered before Beth could. This fucking world was always trying to answer before they could. Fucking walkers. He rolled off her lap and loaded the bow. He helped her to her feet and shot the walker at the same time. Beth scooped up the apples. She threaded her sticky fingers through his and they walked back up towards the road. They left the apples on the church steps and walked along the road for a couple hours until they came to an abandoned four door car that was pulled off to one side. The passenger door was thrown open and a walker lay dead on the pavement, one foot still draped over the floormat inside the car. Its chest had been violently slashed open and blood stained the pavement. Beth swore as she walked around the other side of the car. Daryl joined her and swore twice as loud as she had. A lopsided “D” and a crooked “B” were painted on the rusty white metal in blood.

It looked fresh to Daryl. Probably done within the last week, but well before last night's rain. He immediately found himself looking around, crossbow raised, wondering if they had been followed or if someone was spying on them. He had gotten so used to the idea that he and Beth might be alone in the world that to see a message that was made recently by another human that wasn't Beth or him was absolutely terrifying. Beth had thrown open the backdoor and was leaning across the seat digging through bits of trash that littered the floor. Daryl growled and grabbed her by the center of her belt, just below where the back of her shirt had ridden up, and yanked her backwards out of the car. She glared at him and rubbed her stomach where her belt buckle had dug into her skin.

“The hell are ya doin'?” he grumbled in a low voice.

“Lookin' for signs from our group, from our _family_.”

“We don't know this was Rick or Maggie that did this. Coulda been anyone. Coulda been someone that's been followin' us.”

“It's not. Maggie did this. I know.”

“You can't be sure. Ya coulda just fuckin' climbed into a trap.”

“My instinct said it wasn't,” she spat back, her eyes flashing dangerously.

“Yeah, well, you need to be a little more careful,” he muttered.

“Look,” she said dangling a little piece of black cord with a silver “M” charm hanging from it, “It's Maggie's.”

“You don't know that. Could be anyone's. Jus' cause it's got an “M” on it don't mean shit.”

“How many people left on the planet know our initials and have names that start with “M”. Maggie and Michonne. That's it. And last I checked, Michonne wasn't overly fond of jewelry, but Maggie, she had a bracelet jus' like this.”

“Coincidence. Ain't mean shit. We need to get back before it gets dark.”

“No. We should get on the bike and follow the road north. They could be--”

“Hundreds of miles away by now. Don't even know for sure where they're headed. If it even was them. C'mon,” he said, grabbing her upper arm and pulling her back in the direction they came.

“What is wrong with you? They're our _family._ Don't you want to find them?” she cried, ripping her arm free from his grasp.

“What's wrong with _you_ , woman? We ain't got hardly any food left, barely enough gas to get us back to the cabin— _if_ we're lucky, and it's gonna be dark in a few hours. You wanna get stuck outside in the cold and rain again like last night?”

Beth was sobbing now and a sharp pain jabbed him in the chest when he realized that he had done this.

“I don't care if it's dangerous or stupid. Maggie would go after me if I left that message for her.”

“Beth,” he started, not knowing what else he would say. He had already given her his best argument on the matter and it made perfect sense to him. They needed to get back to the cabin, get their shit together, before they charged off looking for anyone.

“If it was you that left that note I'd go. I wouldn't hesitate,” she told him.

His heart sank into the pit of his stomach. A wave of nausea lurched up. If it was Beth that left that note for him, he'd do the same.

“This is different. We can't keep being careless. Bein' at the cabin we haven't had to think, haven't had to remember there's still assholes like that Governor out here and there's still a world full these monsters,” he said, nudging the dead walker with the toe of his boot.

“Can we just check the car a little more, please,” she begged.

He nodded. It wouldn't hurt to be thorough. They had been standing on the side of the road arguing and yelling for the last twenty minutes and no one had run out of the trees yet to attack them. He bent over the dead walker and dug in its pockets while Beth went through the glove box. In the walker's front pocket he found a wallet. Inside were a few credit cards, driver's license and a business card that said “David Burns Owner at Burns Tractor Supply.” Daryl checked the driver's license and credit cards. “David C. Burns,” was the name on each one.

He grunted and showed Beth. She still wasn't convinced that's what the “D” and “B” on the side of the car were, but she seemed to be starting to accept that it might not be a sign from Maggie. The thorough search of the car turned up little more than a bottle of water that was only a quarter of the way full and a handful of maps. Together they sat down on the side of the road.

“You were right,” she groaned, not looking up at him.

“No. You were right to check it out.”

“I just feel like we're never gonna find them sometimes.”

Daryl stared down at his dusty boots. The left one was wearing thin near the toe. Soon it would have a hole and he'd have to find another pair eventually. They hadn't been doing enough to find Rick and Maggie. _He_ hadn't been doing enough to find them.

Part of it was because he had grown to like it being just him and Beth and he was still uneasy about what the others were going to say about their relationship which was quickly turning sexual and for the first time in his life he wanted that, wanted a sexual relationship with someone for more than just proving something to Merle. Daryl loved Beth and he wanted to be with her in every way possible. How was that going to happen with the others breathing down their necks?

An image of him and Beth walking up hand-in-hand to Rick and the others flashed in his brain. He still didn't believe that Rick and the others would be as supportive as they were in his dream. He could just imagine the confusion and disgust on Rick's face.

_What were you thinkin', brother? She's eighteen for christ sakes and you're how old? 39? 40?_

He suddenly felt disgusted and agitated again. He wasn't sure exactly how old he was anymore. The last birthday he remembered celebrating was three or four years before the world went to hell. He didn't usually do shit for his birthday which was sandwiched in between Christmas and New Year's Eve. Birthday celebrations had been for kids with money and parents who didn't beat the shit out of them and he had neither of those growing up. He and Merle never did shit for Christmas or New Years either besides sit around getting lit and high while they watched an endless loop of a yule log burning as it cut in and out of the static on the junky little TV in their living room.

It had been his 35th birthday, the last time they did something besides get wasted. Merle had come into a lucrative business deal that involved selling stolen car parts and he was determined to throw Daryl a kickass birthday that year. Merle got him a cake from Wal-Mart. Nothing fancy, just a rectangular white cake with pink frosting—as a joke, and Merle had asked them to write, “Happy Birthday Darylina!” on it, but they had misspelled it so it read “Happy Birthday Darlene.” Daryl damn near threw the cake in Merle's face when he saw it. Merle damn near fell over laughing when he saw how angry Daryl was.

Merle invited over their group of friends, mostly fellow dealers and “business” partners, many of which brought their wives, girlfriends, or whatever chick they were banging at the time. Merle also bought a keg and brought a good amount a cocaine. Everything was going great for awhile. Daryl had a nice buzz going from the beer. He had kicked everyone's ass at darts with the impromptu board they had made on the living room wall. Merle had recently gone through his computer and printed every naked photo he ever took of every woman he had ever slept with and they used those for targets.

By midnight, Merle was piss drunk and most of the guests were still there. Someone had asked how old Daryl was because they wanted to do a shot for every year. For whatever reason, Merle decided it was a perfect time to call Daryl out on his lack of sex drive.

“Little Darylina's 35 today and he ain't had sex but maybe ten times in his life. He might as well be a 35 year old virgin like that pansy ass guy in that movie that came out awhile ago,” Merle had laughed.

Daryl remembered being utterly humiliated and he was sure it had been more than ten times. Or was Merle right?

Someone had asked really? And why? Daryl didn't remember who. He had been about to wring Merle's neck.

“Dunno. I try to be a good brother and throw all the pussy I can at him, take him to the strip club. He doesn't even get a boner when he has a nice pair of titties being shoved up in his face. I even got him some of those little blue--”

“Shut the fuck up, you fuckin' prick!” Daryl had screamed at him.

Everyone in the room went silent and stared at the two brothers. Daryl was sure his face must have been red and the vein popping out on his neck. He was so fucking angry. His mouth moved wordlessly as his brain struggled to grasp for an excuse, for a reason why he was the way he was. There was nothing though.

He had been like this since he was a teenager. He never thought about sex much, hardly ever masturbated and when he did it was because he was really drunk or woke up with a boner that just wouldn't go away. The women he had slept with had been pushed on him by Merle and it was always disappointing for him and for the woman who had to work his dick with her hand or mouth for half an hour or more until he was even hard enough to get it in. Most of the time he failed to come and after a few times, he figured as long as it was dark and he wore a condom he could fake having an orgasm and be done with the whole thing quickly.

Daryl always just figured there was something wrong with him—early onset erectile disfunction or some shit or maybe he was just born without a sex drive or a very small one. Merle's constant nagging and teasing him about it had almost prompted him to see a doctor, but it seemed like a waste of money and he didn't have health insurance. Maybe it was a good thing he didn't waste the money, maybe there was nothing wrong with him after all. He had no problem getting hard when he was with Beth or when he thought about her. It started back at that lake—no before that even, when she rubbed against him during their drunken crossbow lesson.

Daryl glanced over at Beth. She had the maps spread out on the pavement in front of her and was looking at them with a furrowed brow while she hummed. Warmth shot down through his abdomen at the sight of her and he laid a palm in the center of her back. His hand rose and fell with her gentle breathing and he felt all the pent up anger at Merle, agitation, and anxiety ease up.

“A couple of these have routes and places marked on them,” she told him.

One of the maps showed multiple states running up the east east cost and had a route marked out in black pen that led from Atlanta to Washington D.C. The other maps looked local and showed only places in Georgia.

“We can check 'em out, but we do it carefully. It's only the two of us and we don't know if these places are overrun or what,” Daryl said.

“I understand and I'm sorry for gettin' so emotional and upset. We'll go back to the cabin tomorrow and find more gas for the bike. You're right. Can't just go rushing into places without thinkin'.”

Daryl winced at her apology. He was the one who had been an ass earlier. He felt sick as he climbed to his feet and brushed the gravel off his pants. They walked back down the road in silence as the sky flushed pink with the setting sun. She walked ahead of him, crossbow in her hands. Her ponytail had come loose and was slightly skewed to the left side of her head. Her hips swayed from side to side as her worn out cowboy boots scraped on the broken asphalt. The sunlight was turning her hair and the blue flannel shirt she wore into the same strange pink-yellow of the apples they had picked. Daryl fell even further behind her now that the light had rendered her into some kind of goddess again. The burden of his past failures and the look on Beth's face when he had argued with her earlier became heavier and heavier with every step. He kicked at a few broken pieces of concrete as he walked.

It was nearly dark when they got back to the church. They pushed aside the desk in the office and curled up on the carpet with their blanket. He lit one of the saint candles—the Virgin Mary one. The white wax had melted down the side of the glass and the candle was over half used up. It would probably only last for one more night. They'd probably have to leave it behind in the morning because by dawn it would be a heavy useless object, an unnecessary burden to keep carrying.

The night was freezing again and the church was drafty as hell. They were both fully clothed tonight, both to stay warm and to be ready to run if another incident like the one at the bed and breakfast took place. Beth shifted closer to him for warmth. She had the maps spread out on her lap again.

Daryl's eyes drifted around the office. The walls were cluttered with cheesy posters framed with cheap gold colored plastic. Some of them were just pictures, angels and shit, Jesus on the cross, the Virgin Mary with baby Jesus. Others were photos of animals or sunsets or trees with words super imposed over top. Most of the quotes were too long for Daryl to read from a distance, especially with only the light of a single candle. The only one he could make out was a picture of a burning red and violet sunset that read, “He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”

Daryl guessed the new world order hadn't quite turned out how these people had expected. Guilt surged through him because he actually liked the way the world was now better than he had liked the way the world was before.

He picked up a Bible that had been tossed to the floor. It was full of little sticky notes marking certain passages. There was a folded piece of paper detailing a list of upcoming weddings tucked in the cover of the book. Daryl flipped it open to one of the pages that was book marked and passed his eyes over the words, “Two are better than one, because they have a good return for their labor. If either of them falls down, one can help the other up. But pity anyone who falls and has no one to help them up. Also, if two lie down together, they will keep warm. But how can one keep warm alone? Though one may be overpowered, two can defend themselves.”

His eyes traced the tiny words over and over. It was a truth that he hadn't come to realize until after the end of the world and one he hadn't fully realized until he spent time alone with her for weeks on end. He felt horrible for not wanting to find their group for fear that his relationship with Beth would have to stop. He wasn't in this alone. It wasn't going to be up to him to explain himself to Rick and Maggie. Beth would help. She wanted this too. They were in this together. It was so easy to forget that though after so many years of it just being him or him and Merle.

Beth's head and fallen onto his shoulder. Her hands lay limp on her lap. Her fingers were still lightly curled around the pages of the maps. He turned his head and let his lips ghost over the top of her head. When she didn't move, he guessed she had probably fallen asleep.

Daryl dug around the pocket of his vest for the pack of cigarettes. There was a tiny metallic clatter as something fell out of his pocket. A flash of gold, silver, and sparkly stones glinted in the candlelight as the ring hit the floor a few inches from his thigh. He grumbled as his fingers snapped out and snatched it up. He had forgotten it was still in his pocket. He turned it over in his dirty blood-stained fingers. He should do something with it or leave it behind, but he couldn't make up his mind as to what that something should be, so he shoved it back down into his pocket and lit up the cigarette.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on the Daryl/Merle memory: Daryl doesn't have erectile dysfunction or any other sexual disorder (at least not in this fiction). He simply doesn't fully understand his sexuality and Merle having a completely different sexuality sure as hell doesn't understand. I believe Daryl is possibly demisexual which in very basic terms means he only feels aroused by a person he has a deep emotional bond with. This isn't a new or original idea and there's several other Bethyl fics out there that use this idea for Daryl's sexuality. For me, this is the most fitting sexuality for Daryl and that's why I'm choosing to use it in this story. Anyways, I could probably go on and on about this, but I think it's best to just leave it open and if you have any questions feel free to leave them in the comments and I'll answer as best as I can.
> 
> Note about Bible verses in this chapter: You've probably already realized at this point my story has incorporated a lot of references to different mythologies/religions from Greek to Pagan/Celtic to Ancient Egyptian as well as Christian. Since they're staying the night at a church in this chapter there is a lot of Christian symbolism incorporated because well they're at a freaking church. The two Bible verses used are Revelation 21:4 and Ecclesiastes 4:9-12. Again, if you have questions feel free to ask in the comments. I'm not religious at all and by no means an expert, but I'll do my best to answer. Religions fascinate me so I have studied them quite a lot.


	31. Thirty One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Sexual Abuse: Daryl discusses his sexual past with Beth in this chapter and personally, I feel some of it crosses the line into abuse/non-consensual sex/being taken advantage of (Not Daryl taking advantage of or abusing a sexual partner, but the other way around).
> 
> Update 03/02/2016: I apologize for slowing down a bit and only getting out two chapters last week. The last few chapters have been intense and I find that I have to walk away from them multiple times to get through certain scenes. I'd rather take my time though then put out something I feel is too rushed or not ready.
> 
> Now that we're over 30 chapters in, I'd also like to say thank you to everyone who's been reading this since the beginning and is still around and also everyone who's joined in somewhere along the way. Thank you to those of you who have been commenting along the way and an extra special thank you to the handful of you that have been commenting on every chapter or nearly every chapter (Reignashii, Darylslover33, begginstrip, StrangersAngel, and Kris). I always appreciate your comments and they help keep me going when I'm feeling burned out! Thank you so much and I hope you enjoy this chapter!

Daryl must have dozed off sometime after he had his smoke. Beth was slumped over on the floor and had pulled all of the blanket with her, leaving Daryl shivering. The candle had gone out and it was nearly pitch black in the room. Rain was drumming on the roof and down the hall he could hear a _drip, drip, drip_ , coming from the bathroom. He stood up and stretched. His back and neck ached from leaning against the hard brick wall. He took out his lighter and felt his way down the hallway to the bathroom and took a piss in one of the sinks.

When he got back to the office, he curled up behind Beth, tugging some of the blanket away from her. She opened her eyes for a few seconds and threw the blanket around him before snuggling her face into his chest and going back to sleep. He touched the soft skin on the back of her neck, lightly stroking it. His face was buried in the top of her head, her hair tickling his nose, but he didn't care. Her fingers were fisted in the front of his shirt and they didn't relax even after she had fallen back to sleep. Daryl tightened his grip on her hip. Together, they clung to each other in a darkened world. With the sound of the rain and the security of Beth's warm breath against his shirt, Daryl was able to fall into a deeper and more comfortable sleep.

His fingers were curled around the hind legs of a dead rabbit. Steam was rising from the blood that ran down the gash he had made along its breastbone. Daryl moved through the dark orchard alone, the rabbit flopping at his side. The tall grass between the rows of apple trees snagged on his jeans before he crunched it under his boots.

The crumbling brick structure appeared before him, illuminated by the moonlight. The cross on the steeple creaked in the slight breeze, threatening to come crashing down off the roof. Candlelight flickered against the broken stained glass windows. Daryl climbed the cracked concrete steps and threw open the heavy oak double doors. A gust of air blew up the aisle and one by one the candles in the windows went out, leaving only the two on the altar at the far end of the room lit. The oak doors slammed shut behind him causing the doves in the rafters to flutter and coo.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Blood ran down rabbit carcass and fell from the tip of its nose in time with the echo of Daryl's footsteps as he moved through the hollow building. He dropped to his knees when he reached the altar. He laid the rabbit at the foot of it and waited like a cat to be praised by its master for bringing home a dead chipmunk. His eyes shot up for half a second and he came face to face with her toes. A few bits of chipped red nail polish were still clinging to her toenails—an elegy to that day she had sung to a room full of dead men and her magick had brought a few of them back to life.

When she didn't say anything, he slowly let his eyes wander up her naked leg. There was a crunch as she bit into one of the apples. The juice oozed out of her mouth and poured down her chin. Her hair was loose and fell over her shoulders. She was sitting on the altar wearing only his shirt and most of the buttons were undone. One leg dangled over the front and the other was bent on top of the table, her foot crushing the pages of the Bible that was open.

Beth watched him over the apple as she took another bite. Her eyes seemed to be glowing from within, shining like nebulas in the black soundless void of deep space, filled with all the bits and pieces necessary to form stars, to form worlds and to incubate them. Turbulent aquamarine was lit up by violet streaks of lightening and ringed with fiery citrine and all of it floated around two deep black holes that held his reflection, drawing him in, relentless, insatiable. The gravitational pull of her had long since hooked him and there would be no escape now or ever, only a beginning that was wrapped in an ending, a secret that would only be whispered when he was on the other side of the void. What was beyond it, he could only wonder. He would have to wait to be devoured completely to find out.

Her canines sunk into the soft flesh of the apple, over-sharp like a wolf's or a cat's. Another wave of juice poured down her chin. Her chest was glistening where the liquid had made her sticky and wet. The way she held her lips as she chewed twisted her mouth into a smirk. Daryl leaned in closer so that his cheek hovered next to hers. He breathed in the scent of her, the tart smell of apple juice mixed with saliva, mixed with rain, earth, mud, dried blood and a cocktail of sweat and musk—that unwashed scent that they both had more often than not since they only bathed about once a week. Daryl didn't mind. He liked the lavender soap smell she had just after bathing alright, that one that clung to her hair like a whisper, like she had spent the afternoon lying naked in a field of grass and wildflowers, but _this_ scent, the one that was emanating from her now, was better, wilder, animalistic, unclean. As Daryl bent further over her, he could smell her arousal and it combined with all the other scents was making him hard.

A strand of his hair fluttered as she breathed in the smell of him. A strange little contented half-laugh half-sigh was pushed up from the back of her throat as she let out a breath.

She pushed the fruit against his mouth. He cupped the apple and bit down.

God it was so fucking juicy. The one they shared in the orchard earlier hadn't been nearly as much. How was it even possible for an apple to be so fucking succulent? The juice was running down over his chin and making his beard sticky. The drops collected in the little hollow under his jaw, pooling there until it was just too much and they fell like rain onto Beth's thigh.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Beth was licking her fingers clean one at a time, the same way Daryl licked his fingers clean when they ate a rabbit. Only when she did it, it was sexual, slow, lavishing each one with attention from her lips and tongue.

The last finger slid out of her mouth with a pop and she undid the single button that was holding her shirt closed. The cloth fell down her shoulders leaving her completely exposed. The juice had run down her tits and fell from her small hardened nipples onto the smooth skin of her thighs.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

Daryl was still holding the apple. Sticky juice trailed down his forearm and stained the carpet.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

He was waiting for her to speak. He was waiting for her orders, secretly hoping that she wanted the same thing he did, but she held him there in a delicious kind of limbo. His dick was throbbing in his jeans. He reached down and undid his belt and zipper, sliding his pants down so his erection had room to spring free. Another throaty laugh fell from Beth's lips. Her hand slid down her stomach and between her legs. She threw her head back as she rubbed herself.

Daryl moved in closer still. His dick slid against her thigh. He pulled down his boxers and stepped out of his pants all together. His fingers wrapped around the base of his erection and he pressed it into the tender wet flesh of her thigh. He groaned as his dick slipped against her.

Beth shifted and the book clattered to the floor. She spread her legs before him, offering him a much nicer view. The apple tumbled out of his hand and hit the floor with a soft thud. She was rubbing quick little circles over her clit, breathy moans and pants falling uncontrollably from her wet mouth every few minutes. He was stroking himself now without even really thinking about it. He couldn't control himself anymore. His fingers were wet from the juice and his dick slid easily across palm. He covered one of her tits with his free hand, stroking the nipple and rolling it between his fingers before giving her whole breast a squeeze.

Her legs wrapped around his hips and she drew him closer so that he hovered just over her naked body. He could smell how wet and sweaty she was being so close. His head dropped to her shoulder and his open mouth moved over her collarbone, down her breastbone and over to where his hand still gripped her breast.

Her body was trembling beneath his lips now. He glanced down to see her fingers buried in her cunt as her palm slapped and rubbed against her clit. The sticky wet sound of it combined with the sound of his own hand sliding up and down his shaft and together their noise echoed off the hollow stones. The sounds got louder and louder as both of them picked up their paces. He was moaning against her skin. He could still taste the tart apple juice mixed with the salty taste of her skin and he lapped at it greedily, trailing his tongue over her chest.

He could feel her pulse pounding beneath his tongue. He guessed that she was close and so was he. He slowed down his own rhythm so he could focus on kissing, licking, sucking and biting the naked skin on her neck and chest. He trailed his mouth down over her breasts and took a nipple into his mouth like he should have done when they were making out in that art gallery. Her breaths came in quick sharp pants and she was whimpering his name over and over until the whimpers became shrieks as she came undone beneath him.

Beth fell back, her chest heaving beneath his mouth. She slid her fingers out of her cunt and forced them into his mouth. He groaned around them as he ran his tongue over them, tasting them, sucking them clean as he picked up speed again. He drank in the sight of her from her smirking mouth to her wet chest and swollen nipples—swollen because of something he did, down over her stomach, between her thighs which were shinning with wetness.

He couldn't hold back anymore and he stopped fighting it. The first few drops of come gushed over his knuckles and fell onto her inner thigh.

_Drip. Drip. Drip._

It felt so fucking good, better than the time he jerked off at the cabin, better than any time he had done it before. His come pooled on her leg. When he finished, he let his head drop onto her chest and breathed in the scent of her mixed with his own.

Somewhere in the rafters, the birds fluttered and Daryl's eyes shot open.

Beth had rolled over in her sleep. Daryl's mouth was pressed against the back of her neck. His fingers were curled around her hip and he was humping her ass. His boxers felt damp and his heart was pounding. He pushed her away and she sat up groggily and mumbled his name. He stumbled down the hallway to the bathroom and unzipped. He shoved his hand down the front of his boxers. His fingers brushed against something sticky and wet, but not like the juice from the apple. This was sticky and wet and thick.

_Fuck._

He was still half hard and his heart raced in his chest. He yanked a paper towel out of the holder next to the sink and tried to clean himself up.

“Daryl?” Beth appeared in the doorway causing him to jump and he quickly removed his hand from the front of his boxers.

Her brow scrunched up and her eyes were full of confusion as she looked from his crotch to his hand.

“Are you?” she asked him nervously.

“No,” he said quickly, “Jus' takin' a piss. Go back to sleep.”

Her face shifted from suspicion to embarrassment and she averted her eyes. After she disappeared down the hallway, he cleaned himself up best he could. There was still a damp spot on the front of his boxers, but he mopped up the majority of the come.

Back in the office, Beth had laid down on the floor on her back and pulled the blanket nearly up to her chin. Daryl crawled under next to her. His knuckles brushed against the bare skin on the side of her hip. His heart skipped a beat. The breath caught in his throat. His fingers moved of their own accord, rolling over her thigh, sliding up along the damp skin, drawn towards the heat of her in the cold room.

“Are ya...?” the words came out, stilted and heavy. His breath turned to mist as it rolled out.

Beth hummed in response and let out a breathy sigh.

“Why?” he asked.

“You,” she breathed, turning her head to meet his eyes.

_Oh._

He wanted to get up and go in the other room or at least tear his gaze away from her, but the dark centers of her eyes held him there. And he couldn't because she was sucking him in. He stared at her awkwardly. He wasn't sure what else to do. After a few minutes, she turned her head. He could just make out the outline of her forehead, the slope of her nose and the curve of her lips as she panted and made little puffs every now and then. He could feel little vibrations through her thigh as she rubbed herself. His fingers twitched where they lay next to her and every now and then he absentmindedly, with the lightest touch he could mange, stroked the side of her thigh.

The movement came to an abrupt halt, but she hadn't made that gasp.

“Somethin' wrong?” he asked. The words scraped his mouth as he spoke. His tongue felt like sandpaper.

“Never done this while someone was in the room, while someone was lyin' next to me,” her voice had the same thick quality that his did, like it was hard for her to speak.

“Should I go?”

_Should I help?_

Not that he knew how. He had a general idea and he had caught glimpses of her masturbating a few times when they were at the treehouse. Some of the women he had been with had asked him to help them come when their experience with him had been rather abrupt. He wasn't good at that either and it usually resulted in the woman leaving when he sucked at it.

“No,” she paused and he realized that she was just as nervous as he was, “Can you do somethin' else for me instead?”

“Beth,” he started, his voice low and gravelly and shaking slightly. He didn't know if he could help. It would be better if she just asked him to leave. How did she get so worked up anyways?

His stomach turned over when he realized he must have been humping her for awhile in his sleep. Had she been awake the whole time he was doing it? If she had, why the hell didn't she wake him up?

She sat up, keeping the blanket over her lap. She scooted closer to the wall and he did too, leaning his back against it.

“Can you hold me?” she asked.

He let out the breath he was holding in. _That_ was something he could do even if it was still a little awkward. Or a lot awkward.

“How?” he asked.

She pushed her small frame in between his knees and rested her back on his chest. His fingers fumbled on her shoulders and upper arms as she made herself comfortable.

“Like this,” she told him. She lifted her arms and brought his around her frail chest. They weren't eating enough, he decided. His arms easily encircled her chest and the way her ribs were sticking out last night made them seem more defined than usual.

Beth draped her arms over his. She rested the palm of her left hand on top of his forearm and slid her other hand back between her thighs. Her legs fell open against his. Her arm brushed against his as she rubbed herself. She started off much more slowly and gently than she had in his dream. Her other hand came up and tilted his jaw down to meet hers. The kiss was slow and deep and her tongue was in his mouth tasting him and he was tasting her too and she still tasted like those damn apples.

He was getting hard again. It was difficult not to with her kissing him, moaning into his mouth, and knowing what her hand was doing under the blanket. His fingers tightened on her and he allowed one of his hands to wander down her stomach and over her thigh. His other hand slid up under her shirt and rested, palm splayed just under her ribcage. His thumb stretched up and just lightly brushed against the bottom of her breast and he remembered that once again, she had removed her bra even though she kept the rest of her clothes on when they went to sleep earlier. The hand he had on her thigh began to stroke a path from the inside of her knee up towards where her inner thigh was slick and damp from sweat and her arousal. She shivered at his touch and pulled her mouth away from his.

“Should I stop?” he choked out the words, nervously, awkwardly.

She shook her head and kissed him again and he had his answer. His hand moved up further, cupping her breast. He played with her nipple like he had in his dream. She was kissing him faster now, the tip of her tongue flicking against his. She had picked up her rhythm too and it was no longer slow and measured, but wild, furious and uncontrolled. He couldn't tell if she was rubbing little circles, side to side, up and down, diagonally or what. It felt like some mess of all of those movements. Her legs were trembling against his. He pressed his hand into her lower abdomen and felt the muscles contracting and fluttering there. Then with one last shudder, she came apart in his arms and melted into him, her chest heaving. Beth went to wipe her hand on her shirt, but he stopped her with the hand he had on her thigh. He pushed her fingers into his mouth and sucked on them, running his tongue in between them, tasting her. She was salty and a tiny bit of something else he couldn't quite put his finger on, but he wanted more of it. He licked her fingers clean and she slowly slid her fingers back past his lips.

Daryl kept his other hand on her chest, feeling her pulse bounce against his fingers until it eventually slowed back down. They sat there in a quiet contentedness for awhile just listening to the rain and the sound of Beth's breathy sighs.

The rain continued on into the early hours of the morning before dawn and it became clear that were going to have to stay put a while longer until it stopped. Daryl still had hope that they'd be able to leave in the afternoon. They relit the candle and shared one of the apples, which to his relief and disappointment at the same time, was not nearly as juicy as the one in his dream. Beth had put her pants back on and sat next to him with her shoulder pressed up against his. Between bites, she would lay her head on his shoulder and nuzzle him.

“We should play a game while we wait,” Beth said.

“Don't see any around here.” He supposed there was probably a game of Bible Trivia tucked away somewhere, but hell if he would be any good at that game.

“We can play truth or dare. I'll go first. Truth or dare, Daryl?”

“Beth, dunno if this is a good idea.”

“Ok, then ask me.”

“What?”

“Truth or dare.”

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

“Tell me somethin'.” He had no idea what to ask. He supposed he could ask what she was thinking about when she came, but his nervousness was keeping his mouth shut.

“Like what?”

“Anythin'. Somthin' that's true.” He was reminded again how much he sucked at these kind of games. He was terrible at coming up with things off the top of his head.

“I liked when you were rubbing against my ass when you were sleeping,” she said quietly.

Daryl automatically muttered an apology at the realization that yes, he was humping her for quite a long time in his sleep. Even with all their kissing, making out, touching each other while they were damn near naked, it still took him aback to hear her say that she liked it, that she wanted it, that hell, she might want him to hump her like that while they were both awake. Years of his father's and Merle's taunts and accusations about his manhood, attractiveness, his lack of skill with the opposite sex and low sex drive had permanently scarred his self-perception. Beth was trying her best to smooth away those scars, but like the ones she could touch, they would never vanish for good.

“Now it's your turn. Truth or dare?” Beth told him.

“Dare.” He was always better at dares, not that he was a liar. It's just that truth was hard and in the case of his life, quite ugly.

“I dare ya to kiss me somewhere other than my lips.”

“Hmm,” he agreed, his eyes darting over her body for a place he could easily and quickly reach. He spotted the tip of her ear poking out of her messy hair and leaned in and brushed his lips over it, “There.”

Beth smiled and giggled. He felt his muscles relaxing. This wasn't so bad after all. He could do this silly game. Sitting with her in the candlelight playing this game made him feel like he was thirteen again, except when he was thirteen he never played truth or dare, just dare and only to win money, cigarettes, and booze from the other kids.

“I pick truth again,” she said.

His palms were starting to sweat and the question was continuing to nag him so after hesitating and toying with the idea he asked, “What did ya think about when ya...?”

_Oh._

She was staring down again, picking at a thread on the hem of his shirt. Her face was turning as red as it had in that sex toy shop when he asked her if she ever got herself off with a vibrator or dildo.

She pressed her lips together and her eyes suddenly flicked up and were piercing into his unabashedly.

_You. You. You._

“You,” she said it unflinchingly with an air of confidence that she lacked only minutes ago.

“And those two times at the treehouse?” he asked. Her confidence must have infected him.

“Wait, ya saw that?” the confidence drained from her voice and pooled under the glass-top desk that loomed over them.

His confidence joined hers in the puddle and he had to will himself to nod slowly as he stared at his kneecaps.

“I was thinking about a dream,” she answered.

“Yeah?”

“Remember when I woke you up that night in the hammock and told ya about the dream where I was trackin' ya?”

He nodded. He vaguely recalled it, but what he remembered the most was that she had seemed like she was holding parts of the dream back.

“When I found you, ya tore open my shirt and...” she trailed off.

“Is that somethin' you'd like?” he asked, sucking in a breath. God, he could hardly believe the words actually fell out. They hung in the room, strange and disembodied as they struggled to find a place amongst all the Jesus posters and crosses that adorned the walls.

“Dunno. No one's ever torn open my shirt. Have you ever done it before? Torn off some woman's clothes in a fit of passion?” Her words were equally nervous and he took a small amount of comfort in knowing that she was as awkward as he was in asking these types of things.

“No,” he said flatly.

Her face twitched between relief and disappointment.

“'S ok if ya have,” she mumbled, “I was never silly enough to believe you're not a thousand times more experienced than I am.”

“I'm not,” he blurted.

“But you've had sex with more people than I have.”

“Not hard to beat someone who's count is zero,” he teased.

“Does it bother you?”

“What?”

“That my count is zero. That the most I've ever done is kiss and grind.”

“Nah,” he lied.

It did bother him, but not for the reasons he suspected she thought it did.

“You can be my teacher. Jus' like ya have with the crossbow,” she said eagerly.

“Beth,” he trailed off and sighed, “This is different. I'm not good at _this_.”

He'd never been with someone who was a virgin. Even his first time had been with someone who was experienced.

“When did ya lose yours?” she asked quietly.

“Lose my what?”

“Virginity.”

“Beth," he warned, "You don't wanna hear it.” He didn't want to tell it either.

“It's ok. I'm not jealous or anythin'.”

Daryl suspected that she probably was at least a little judging by the slight trace of worry in her features.

“It's not that. It's jus' a miserable story.” Traumatic might be a better word.

“Did ya love her?”

“Told ya, I ain't never been in love before.”

“Doesn't matter, you can still love someone without bein' in love. I loved Zach, Glenn, Carl, and Rick, but I wasn't in love with them. Not like with you.”

The way her voice softened over the last four words made his heart flutter against his ribcage and he knew he would end up telling her.

“Didn't love her,” he told Beth.

“Then did ya care about her?”

“No.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Were ya friends at least?”

“No.”

“Then how did ya meet?” Her face shifted from worry to confusion, like she couldn't possibly disconnect love from sex.

“Merle. I was seventeen. I'd been livin' with him for about a year and when you're livin' with someone ya tend to notice their habits.”

“I know what ya mean. I always checked the bathroom before I left for school cause Maggie always forgot to turn off the flat iron.”

“Flat iron? The hell is that? Was she ironin' her clothes in the bathtub or somethin'?”

“No. For straightenin' her hair. She always spilled eyeshadow all over the sink too. What annoyin' habits did Merle have?”

“Too many to fuckin' list 'em all,” he laughed, “Merle noticed that I didn't like to do certain things that he liked to do when he was drunk.”

“What kind of things?” Her brow had furrowed again and her hair tickled his cheek as she shook her head.

“Merle liked to sit in front of the TV jerkin' off to porn when he was really drunk. I didn't. Almos' never touched myself back then. Guess Merle noticed. Asked why I didn't want to watch any of his movies, why I never closed the door to my room, why I never had girls over.”

“Why the hell would he care so much?” she snorted incredulously.

“Guess he thought there was somethin' wrong with me cause I wasn't like him when it came to women.” Daryl believed it himself up until very recently. He was slowly starting to think he might actually be normal, not fully so, but closer than he had been for years.

“Maybe ya were just waitin' for the right one. He shoulda been glad you were waitin'.”

“Your dad would have been glad you were waiting. Merle on the other hand didn't believe in waitin' for the right one. Any woman with a wet and willin' pussy was the right one for him. Didn't understand why I didn't feel the same.”

“Too bad ya didn't know my dad then. He woulda stood up for ya and gave ya good advice.”

“Yeah, too bad. Merle kept buggin' me about it especially when we were drinkin'. Kept askin' me if I was still a virgin. I told him to fuck off every time. One night we were drinkin' and he goes to put on one of his movies and I said fuck it, I'm goin' to bed. We got into a fight and he told me I need to man up and start lookin' at girls or he was gonna throw me out, send me back to my dad's house.”

“God, what the hell was wrong with him?”

Daryl caught a flash of her canines as she spoke and they had that fierce sharpness to them once more as they glinted in the candlelight.

“That's jus' how he was. A week later, at 3am, one of his regular heroin customers came by looking for a fix. She didn't have enough cash so Merle brought her inside to arrange another method of payment.”

“Guessin' he didn't have one of those little credit card swiping machines.”

“Nope. He fucked her right there on the couch. Made me watch. Said I needed to learn and since I didn't wanna watch porn, he was gonna have to show me how it was done. When he finished, she asked if she could have her dope and he said it wasn't enough yet and if she wanted it she had to fuck me too.”

“You didn't want to, did ya?” her voice was full of sadness, but Daryl didn't quite understand why.

“Hell no. She wasn't nothin' special and was probably pushin' 35 or older and I especially didn't want to after Merle had done her,” he shuddered.

“Did she make it good at least?”

Daryl shook his head.

_I'll make it good for you._

The thought sent his heart fluttering and made him feel guilty at the same time. Daryl certainly wanted to make it good for Beth, but he didn't _know_ if he could make it good for her. He was still trying to figure out how to make it good for himself.

“We went back to my room. She took my clothes off. She was frustrated because I wasn't hard yet. She rubbed against me and I still didn't get hard. She yelled to Merle that there was somethin' wrong with me.” God, why was he saying all this. Beth was probably going to think there was something wrong with his dick. It sounded bad to hear it aloud and he remembered why he never spoke about it with anyone else before.

He wondered if he should continue the story. It was hard enough on him to recall it and Beth looked horrified and slightly confused. Her innocence was never more apparent than it was in that moment and he felt horribly guilty for even breathing the same air as her.

“She started blowin' me and it felt alright and after awhile I was hard. She climbed on top of me and bounced up and down and that was about it,” he finished. He had left out a few details mostly because he didn't like talking about the experience and because the other bits were even more awkward and embarrassing than what he had told her.

“Doesn't sound very enjoyable,” she frowned.

“Cause it wasn't. Dunno, guess somethin' was wrong with me.”

“Nah, I don't think so. First of all, who on earth would want sloppy seconds from their brother, especially _Merle_? Secondly, if I had just watched Maggie have sex with a guy, I don't think I'd ever want to do anything sexual ever again, especially not with the guy she just had sex with. Finally, ya probably didn't enjoy yourself because you didn't love her or even like her. I always thought ya had to be in love to have sex with someone--or at least care about them.”

_There's that precious innocence again._

“Tell that to Merle,” he grumbled.

“Let's not count that time then as ya losin' your virginity. What was the first time you had a really good sexual experience? Doesn't have to be sex, could be like oral sex.”

He went quiet. In his head he was flipping through every sexual experience, at least the ones he could remember. He discarded well over half of them, the ones where he hadn't even orgasmed and worse yet the ones where the woman hadn't either and as a result had stormed out of the room to scream at Merle for throwing her at such a disappointing fuck. Daryl also threw out the ones where he just laid there wishing for it to be over. There were a handful of experiences with a couple of girls who had actually made an effort to talk to him for a bit before they got into it. He supposed those were the best of the collection of mostly disappointing encounters. At least those two or three women had been able to get off, albeit mostly without his help. He felt better about those times because at least one of them left satisfied.

“Hmmm, guess maybe when I was thirty. Merle brought me home a woman. He did that a lot. She was into motorcycles. Had one herself. We talked about that for awhile before we fucked. It was alright I suppose. She got herself off with her hand and left.”

“Did you come?”

“Nah. Wasn't feelin' it.”

“Then how is that your best sexual experience?”

“Guess it's not.” But it was the least miserable one he could think of before the turn.

He sifted through the memories again. Most of them were just so cringeworthy it was painful. He reached the last one before the turn—the one the night of his 35th birthday. Merle had humiliated him in front of their friends. One of the fuck buddies of a dealer said he probably had just never been with someone who was good at sex and she pulled him drunkenly down the hall to his bedroom.

She didn't bother kissing him, just shoved her hands down the front of his pants and started massaging his cock. She stripped off her clothes and he looked her over. Her ribs were sticking out badly, not in the same kind of way Beth's ribs stuck out, but in the years of heavy drug use kind of way.

He still wasn't hard so she worked him with her hand for awhile and she was actually quite skilled compared to the women Merle usually threw at him. It didn't take her nearly as long to get him hard. He put on a condom even though she told him he didn't have to and he climbed on top of her. He could hear her rubbing her clit and feel her fingers bouncing against the base of his dick every time he thrust in and out, but he didn't look down at her. His head was elsewhere, thinking about what ever shit business deals Merle had in the workings at the time and worrying about the stolen car parts deal. If it went badly—which it probably would, they would be out of a lot of money and they wouldn't be able to afford court costs.

Daryl waited for her to finish, then faked his own orgasm and quickly pulled out. He kept his back to her as he pulled off the condom and zipped up before she could see he had been losing his erection over the past ten minutes or so. He mumbled a thanks and went back into the other room where their friends cheered him and asked her how he was. She gave him a look of pity, but smiled and told everyone that the sex was mind-blowing. An obvious lie, but everyone there was too drunk or high to challenge it. Either that or they didn't want to make him feel like shit on his birthday, unlike Merle.

Beth was waiting patiently, twisting the blanket in her hands. He watched as her fingers gently worked and stroked the fabric. The same fingers that had so lovingly touched his body last night while they lay in their underwear in front of the fire. Something tugged at his lower abdomen and he felt the blood start to drain south again. Did that count as a sexual experience?

“Oh, I think you found one,” she said, suddenly grinning at him.

“Dunno if it counts. Wasn't sex and wasn't oral and there wasn't an orgasm.”

“Doesn't matter, tell me anyway. You must have really had a good time to make that face. I want to hear about whatever time makes you smile like that jus' from thinkin' about it.”

“Don't need to tell ya about it cause you were there.”

_Oh._

“What? When?” The smile disappeared and was replaced with utter confusion.

“Last night. Jus' touchin you like that.”

“Me? I'm the best ya been with?”

“Dunno. It was jus' different. Better.”

“But you've had other times where you've orgasmed.”

“So? It just happened. Doesn't mean I liked it every time.” It was true and he felt bad admitting it, like he wasn't normal again.

“Somehow bein' with me and not havin' an orgasm was better than all your other sexual encounters?” she asked, narrowing her eyes suspiciously.

He nodded, “Maybe you're right. Maybe ya have to be in love.”

She smiled at that and he felt sappy for saying it. Merle probably would have given him a bloody nose and told him to go get his balls chopped off if he ever heard him utter those words, but when he thought about it, it made sense, maybe not every person had to, Merle certainly never did, but he wasn't Merle. He had no medical explanation for why he had such a low sex drive and why it usually took so long to get an erection or why his problem seemed to suddenly evaporate after he had spent all this time alone together with Beth.

“Guess I ain't gonna be much of a teacher,” he muttered.

“'S ok,” she mumbled shyly, waving a hand, “We'll figure it out together, jus' like everythin' else. And we can do that again—the touchin'. I really liked it too.”

“Ever done anythin' like that before?”

“Nah, nothin' like that. Nothin' that _good._  No privacy remember? Jimmy tried to grab my boobs once and it hurt like hell. He didn't know how to be gentle at all. Zach touched me through my shirt a few times. It was alright,” she shrugged, looking embarrassed.

“Sorry,” he mumbled.

“Why are you apologizin'?”

“Cause I'm not good and I'm the best you've had.”

“Stop, Daryl. Jus' stop.”

“No. You're gonna be disappointed.”

“How? I've got nothing to even compare it to.”

He supposed she was right. Guilt dug its claws into him again, knowing that he might be her first and last sexual experience and knowing from previous times that he pretty much sucked at it. If there was an olympics for sex he wouldn't even qualify for the version for physically disabled people.

“Don't look so worried. I think we're off to a good start. I'm happy,” she told him, grinning again.

“I should be reassurin' you. Not the other way around,” he grumbled.

“Why?”

“Cause I'm pushin', dunno, maybe forty, forty-one come next month and you're eighteen.”

“Nineteen, come spring,” she corrected.

“Same difference.”

“Wait, you don't know how old you are?”

“Never paid much attention to birthdays. When I was a kid, my mom only ever threw one party, well more like family get together, for my birthday. I was seven or eight. My dad asked everyone to jus' get me a card with money so I could pick out what I wanted. My parents kept all the money for themselves to buy more booze and cigarettes. My mom gave me a couple dollars though.”

“What'd ya get with it?”

“Some stupid book— _To Kill a Mockingbird_. Well, it wasn't stupid. It was just difficult to read and I thought it was gonna be about huntin'. Shoulda picked somethin' with pictures.”

“You read that when you were eight?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Didn't read that until I was in high school.”

“Never got to finish it. My dad ripped it up when he caught me readin' when I was supposed to be huntin' dinner.”

“Oh,” she looked down, her face scrunched up in pain, “Maybe we can find another copy.”

“Or ya could jus' tell me how it ends.”

“Nope. Don't think I will. Don't wanna spoil it for ya.”

“You probably jus' don't remember. You were probably slackin' off in class. Day dreamin' like ya always do.”

“That's not true! I worked hard in school. I wasn't always lookin' at boys like Maggie was and I never skipped class.”

He laughed, seeing her get red and mumble trying to defend herself. He liked teasing her sometimes.

“I know. I know. Ya ain't like your sister. You're a good girl.”

“Hmpf. I'm not that good.”

“Good girl except when you're flippin' me off sayin' you're gonna go find some booze or when you're burning a house down or when you're wearin' a skimpy dress meant for a stripper, singin' on a stage.”

Beth was turning redder under his gaze and his accusations. She was looking around the room for a distraction, a way to change the subject.

“Ya said you're birthday's comin' up. When?” she blurted out.

“Don't matter.”

“It does.”

“Not sure what day it is today, but I'm guessin' it's sometime in November. My birthday's the 27th of December.”

“We should celebrate. I wish I could make ya a cake, but we don't have any chickens to get eggs from.”

“It's ok. Don't worry about it. Ain't have to do nothin'.”

“But, Daryl, it's your birthday. We have to do somethin'. Can't let it just pass by.”

“Why not? Ain't need to be reminded that I'm getting' old.”

“You ain't old. My dad was old. Carol was old. Merle was old. You're probably the same age as Rick and Rick isn't old.”

“Rick's old then.”

“We'll just pretend you're turnin' twenty-five.”

“Is that how old I seem to ya?”

“Well you've never felt like you were forty somethin' to me.”

“Dunno if I should take that as an insult or a compliment,” he muttered.

“It's a compliment. You're young at heart, Daryl and that's all that matters.”

He grunted. He might as well be twenty-five or even younger as inexperienced as he was. Still, his body was not that of a twenty-five year old and neither was his mind with all the shit he'd been through in his early years.

“We can do somethin' for my birthday too.”

“When is it?” he asked.

He didn't recall the day, but they had thrown her a little birthday party when they were at the prison. His stomach dropped remembering how he had only ducked in for a few minutes before heading out to take over guard duty so Rick could attend the party. He had purposely asked to take the second half of Rick's shift to avoid the party. It wasn't that he didn't want to be around Beth, it was just that he hated social gatherings and after so many humiliating ones with Merle he was extra anxious about them. He had found Beth as quickly as possible and muttered a happy birthday, before turning to head out. She had caught him in a little one armed hug that made him struggle against her because he didn't expect it and he wasn't used to any of the group hugging or touching him.

“It's in March. March 7th,” she answered.

“Maybe we should find a way to keep track of the days.”

“Let's just make our own calendar since there aren't any anymore.”

“How we gonna do that?”

“Just pick a day and start marking the days from there. Ya said it feels like November, so how about we just say today is November 24th?”

“Why the 24th?”

“Dunno, jus' feels like a November 24th kind of day.”

“Isn't that almost Thanksgivin'? And we already had Thanksgivin'? Can we do November 30th instead?”

“Daryl! You're just' sayin' that cause ya want it to be a few days closer to your birthday!”

“Nah. Jus' feels more like a November 30th kind of day.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, “Ok, Daryl, ok. So what do ya want for your birthday? 'Sides the book?”

“Beth,” he started warningly, “Don't get me anythin'.”

“I want to.”

She waited a while longer for him to tell her what he wanted, but he kept his mouth shut.

“I guess I'll just have to surprise ya.”

“For my birthday, can we jus' do what we did last night again?” he said after a long while.

“Of course. Anytime,” she said with a smile.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note on the choice of "To Kill A Mockingbird" for the book Daryl picks out and buys with his birthday money as a child: I know this book seems a bit mature for an 8 year old to read (I read this in high school), but I did some research and apparently there's at least a handful of people's kids who have read this book sometime between the ages of 7 to 11. The general consensus seemed to be that the reading level is easy enough for someone between those ages, but the subject matter, especially the rape, would most likely be too challenging for someone that young.  
> I think this is fitting for Daryl here because at that age the subject matter probably did go over his head, but years later when he was 17 and living with Merle, what Merle does to him and how it's not right, goes over his head too and it doesn't really click (even decades later) that he was technically sexually abused that day.  
> Anyways, it's 3am and I feel like I'm rambling, so if you have questions, feel free to ask in the comments.


	32. Thirty Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/8/2016 Update: Thanks again to everyone who's still reading this and commenting. I'm sorry this chapter has taken me a week to write and get posted. I hope you enjoy it!

They left the church in the early afternoon. Everything was saturated with rainwater, the grass, the bike, the concrete steps. The leaves in the orchard shuddered as a cold breeze shook them sending a patter of water to the grass.

The rain had stopped, but gray clouds still hung heavy in the sky as the bike flew back down the road heading south towards a highway that would take them back west to the town they had found the big box store at.

Beth clung to Daryl's back, hoping that the rain would hold off. The weight of the clouds overhead mirrored the weight of the ones inside her mind. As much as she tried to brush them away and not think about them she could feel them bearing down upon her, threatening to burst open, a burden she now shared with Daryl, just as she shared the scars on his back, burdens that were too heavy to bear alone, but together, together they would find the strength.

She always knew that Daryl was awkward about sex, awkward about touching, awkward about his relationships with people in general, but she had always attributed it to shyness, modesty, or some kind of old fashioned chivalry. She never dreamed it was because his sex life was so traumatic.

_Abused in more ways than one._

Somehow she got the feeling that he had never talked to anyone about any of the things that had happened to him. She was his first in that. He'd be her first in other things.

She'd just assumed before that Daryl would guide her and teach her when it came to sex—if their relationship ever came to that. Now she was worried. She didn't want to show it, but she was. She had been worried before, for other reasons, mostly a fear that it was going to hurt. Now she had new worries to tend to. She tried to remember every time they had kissed, every time they had made out on the couch, every time they had cuddled in bed at night. He had gotten an erection most of those times, so why did he make it sound like that was something that was difficult for him when he had sex before? What if the first time they went to have sex, he couldn't get hard? She'd feel horrible, humiliated, like it was her fault, like she was one of those women he talked about not enjoying.

Daryl swerved the bike to miss a branch that blocked the lane and Beth fell against him. Her nose filled with the scent of him, leather, smoke, blood crusted jeans and body order from not having bathed or used deodorant in days, maybe even weeks. She thought about the way he looked at her when they touched each other in front of the fire, the way he thrust his hard dick between her thighs. He would be alright, she decided. They could start with touching like that.

The rain held off and the worry and anxiety that had built up in Beth eased. They made it back to the small town with the gas station just before sunset and Daryl walked the bike the rest of the way back to the cabin since the trail was narrow and uneven. She helped him by shining the flashlight for him and kicking branches out of the path. They parked the bike behind the cabin and brought in their haul. Daryl barred the door behind them when it was all inside.

“Glad to be home,” Daryl mumbled as he kicked off his boots.

_Home. That's what this is now. What it's been for a long time._

“Me too. But it's freezin' in here.”

Daryl went to light the fireplace. While his back was to her, she took off the ugly tan jacket and pulled off her boots and belt, swords and knife. He was still fumbling around on the floor by the fireplace. Even though the room was freezing, Beth undid the buttons on her shirt. She removed her jeans, socks, and bra. She stood in front of the bed in her open shirt, shivering as Daryl finally got the fireplace lit.

“Hope it warms up in here fast. Damn it's cold,” Daryl grumbled.

He climbed to his feet and stood with his back to her. She could hear him rubbing his hands together. He looked bigger in the firelight or maybe he looked no different than he normally did, but in this small space they shared together, this place that both of them had come to refer to as “home”, he towered over her and the shadow he cast stretched long across the room. Maybe it was just the shift from being out there standing on the edge of everything with the world spread before the two of them, wide, open, endless, that it felt strange to be in this cramped place again and it was making Daryl into something she was just now able to see—big and rough, all silhouetted by the red-orange glow which outlined him. His crossbow was still slung over his back, resting between the angel wings on his vest. He was made darkness and fire at the same, heavy and solid, but fluid at the same time like the molten core of the Earth.

He stood with his muscular back to her, his shoulders slightly hunched forward. Her hunter, but something else too, something animalistic, wild like the bear from her dream and she knew in that moment that he was both at the same time and so many other things too. She considered the differences between beast and hunter, angel and demon, god and man and understood that they were all one and he was all of them, everything.

“Daryl,” she called his name, unable to take the crush of his strong back to her anymore. His figure was pinning her against the back wall of the cabin and she was wriggling like a field mouse caught under the paw of a cat to free herself.

“Hmm?”

As he turned his head, the fire cast a sidelong gaze over his face and highlighted the roughness of his features, the bags under his eyes from so many sleepless nights and the cruelty of long years, the stubble on his cheek, maybe a few small scars that she never noticed until just right now.

When she didn't speak again, the leather cracked and his crossbow shifted as he turned his upper body. The bow was alive again, like it was all those times in her dreams and not just that, but all the times she held it in her arms, raised it to her chest as the sunlight streamed through the trees and made the metal alloy of it hot in her fingers. Her hands ached to hold it and she longed to feel the strap draped across her heart throbbing that comforting tempo that matched Daryl's heartbeat. It was calling her, beckoning her to move forward through the shadows.

Daryl was still waiting, but her mouth had gone dry and her tongue refused to form words. She came to stand behind him, but she could not touch him. In that moment, there was an ocean between them. All she could do was stare at his magnificence in the dim glow. How lucky she was to have come to this point, to this moment in time. The stormy waters that carried her here mattered not anymore and even though she couldn't reach him in that moment his presence was still there, with her always, like the crossbow in her dreams. Some strange well of joy opened within her and she knew just how fortunate she was that he was hers, her hunter, her protector, her companion, her lover.

Her fingers reached out of their own accord, the tips of them just barely kissing the worn leather that covered his shoulder. The familiar electricity of him shot through her fingertips and down her spine. His crossbow moved again, climbing up his back slightly as he turned to face her. The light flickered off the black curve of the bow as it shifted and cocked its head at her, asking her why she didn't come closer.

“Beth,” Daryl said just above a whisper. His fingers twisted in the strap of the crossbow and it nudged its way further up Daryl's back whispering against the soft leather. God, how she wanted to caress it, and him, both of them.

The warmth of the fire trickled up her legs as she stepped forward, her shirt fluttering against her stomach as it fell open all the way. Her nipples hardened from the little rush of air. Daryl's eyes were downcast, caressing the lengths of her legs up to her hips were the bones jutted out slightly on either side. His fingers loosened around the strap and released it. They stretched out towards her, trembling, but as if there was an invisible force field protecting her, they stopped just short of her stomach. Even though he wasn't touching her, his electrical force bridged the centimeter gap as hers shot out to greet it and some strange guttural sigh gushed up from the back of her throat.

“Beth,” he breathed her name, a weak little plea, “I can't.”

“Why?”

“Because,” he paused as his eyes traced the curve of her jaw up to her ear and then inwards to her eyes, “You're just too fucking beautiful. It's like you're not even human.” The words came heavy, stilted, more like a pant than anything else, “You're not...”

“Then I'll touch you,” she said defiantly, “Undress.”

The sudden surge of assertiveness took both of them by surprise. She heard the breath pass through his lips, a sharp gasp. He whispered her name again, begging, but his fingers were already pulling the strap of his crossbow over his head. He went to lay it on the couch, but Beth's fingers closed around it before he could. She held it to her chest and the metal throbbed hot against her bare skin. She felt a rush of happiness and ran her finger along the curve of it. She wasn't able to touch Daryl in that moment, and yet she was touching him.

Daryl removed his vest and undid his belt. It hit the floor with a clank. The fire shuddered in the hearth. His fingers worked the button and the zipper on his jeans before he pulled them down and kicked them behind him. The crossbow pressed into her, giving her a little reassuring pat as she saw his erection spring free as it pushed the thin red fabric away from his body. He mumbled an apology when her eyes lingered there for too long. His hands fell to his sides and he waited for her next orders.

“The shirt too,” she demanded.

His lips parted and she could tell he was thinking of protesting, but why? There was no need for that anymore. She knew him, knew his body, well most of it anyways.

This time his fingers moved slowly, languishing on each button like if he went too fast his fingers would break. Finally, he reached the last button and the shirt fell open. He shrugged the shirt off his shoulders. The light played over his chest, darkening some areas, creating shadows behind mountain ranges of scars, beautiful and painful to look at the same time. The scars of the hunter. The scars of the beast. The scars of a man who became a god in the red hot glow of the fire.

Her hand shot out to touch him. Invisible fingers wrapped around her wrist and held it there a few inches from the rough skin of his chest.

“Somethin' wrong?” he asked, his chest dipping inwards, out of her reach.

“I can't,” the words pushed out.

“Why?”

“Because you're not human.”

“Then what?”

“Dunno.”

“We're the same then.”

His hands closed around the crossbow and he tugged it from her fingers gently, laying it on the floor next to the couch. Now with nothing in between them, real or imagined, he moved forward. She shrugged her shirt over her shoulders and it fluttered to the floor mimicking the flutter of her heart as his fingers closed around her hips.

Ah yes, _this_. She let out a pained sound, the sound a parched woman must utter before sating herself with a gallon of ice cold water. Spurred on by her noise, he twisted his body and sank to the couch, pulling her with him. The scratchy material of the couch scraped her knees as she straddled him.

His fingers dug into her sides and she pressed her hips down into his and rubbed against the length of his erection. He let a pained groan that echoed the one she had made minutes ago. Her mouth found his, open, wet, waiting. She rocked her hips against his because the pressure felt good. She wondered if he could feel how wet she was through the fabric that separated the two of them.

He lifted her hips up slightly and his hands cupped her ass, fingers digging into the skin there. His mouth moved down over her neck, down to the little hollow above her ribcage. His tongue swept over her collarbone and up to her shoulder where he closed his lips around a bit of flesh and sucked on it before sinking his teeth in ever so slightly. She let out a whimper and her fingers slipped between her legs and pressed against her clit.

He mouth moved down the length of her scar, kissing as if he was trying to devour it. When he reached where the line ended just above her breast, he took her nipple into his mouth. He flicked his tongue across it—once, twice, and again as little breathy sounds escaped her throat uncontrollably.

Beth's fingers wound themselves through his hair. She pressed his head closer to her chest as if he could melt into her. As she did this, she realized just how big he was compared to her thin body and her tiny delicate fingers. A wave of fear washed through her for a second. His tongue was lapping against the skin around her nipple. He was the beast again and she was—what? A shivering maiden lost in the woods, some silly little creature who thought she could play with fire and live to tell about it? Her hands pushed his head away.

He stared up at her his chest heaving against hers. She lowered herself back into his lap. He tightened his hands around her waist. He nuzzled the tip of his nose against the side of hers.

“I love you,” he said in a low gravelly voice, “So fucking much.” The last part was more of a growl.

She pressed her hips forward so that her hip bones crushed into his.

“I love you too.”

His lips were back around hers the second the last word left her mouth.

_He's tryin' to devour me._

The thought sent a laugh up from somewhere deep down, from where her lower abdomen was pulsing with an exquisite ache. He was guiding her hips over his, slow at first, but ramping up speed as he arched up into her. He was groaning into her mouth, kissing her more furiously, mouth covering hers, making her lips wet and her chin and the side of her jaw. He pulled away every couple seconds, just long enough to say her name and take a breath. Her hand was down the front of her panties, rubbing quick little circles over her clit.

Daryl's breaths were coming in quicker and quicker pants. His fingers were digging in deep now and he was holding her place while he thrust up against her instead of rocking her hips. His muscles were tightening underneath her and didn't relax until he uttered some guttural sound that was between a whimper and a gasp. She kept rubbing herself, faster and harder now thinking about the hard dick that had been grinding between her thighs for the past twenty minutes or so until she finally came undone.

Her thighs trembled on either side of his as she fell into him. His hands came up and splayed against her back.

“Beth,” he breathed in her ear, “God.”

“I'm not God,” she laughed.

“You are,” he panted.

The room was quiet except for the sound of their heavy breathing and the crackling of the fire. Her panties were soaked and so were his boxers. She didn't know how long he held her like that. Outside the world was black. The sticky wetness between them was cooling and becoming uncomfortable. Daryl lifted her onto the couch next to him. The front of his boxers had a large wet splotch partially from what soaked through her panties and she guessed partially from his come. He turned his head towards her and his eyes slipped down her naked chest to where her panties were still damp. His hand crept into hers and he pulled her to feet and into the bathroom.

Daryl started to grab one of the rags draped over the side of the tub, but instead his fingers reached for the water pump and he began to fill the tub.

“What are ya doin'?” she asked, “It's late.”

“Ain't matter. We ain't got work in the mornin' or anythin'. Neither of us has had a bath in a week.”

He threw a few pieces of wood into the little furnace that was connected to the tub and lit it with his lighter. Beth nodded. The water would take a few hours to heat up. She was exhausted.

“C'mon. I'll make us somethin' to eat while we wait,” Daryl said. His eyes held the same tiredness as hers.

Back in the other room, she laid down on the bed while Daryl took inventory of all their remaining food, trying to decide what to make. Beth stretched out on top of the covers, burying her face in the pillow. The room was considerably warmer now and she felt no need to throw on pants or one of her flannel shirts or even crawl under the blankets. The uncomfortable wetness between her legs was drying up now in the heat of the room. She closed her eyes and found it impossible to stay awake.

Her fingers were twined in his. He was her hunter and she was his—what? She didn't know, but it didn't matter because they were equals. Daryl's crossbow was slung across his bare shoulders, the curve of it peeked over him curiously at her. They walked the dark forests of the world as the stars splayed overhead. She knew them all by heart because he had taught her on some distant day and the memory of it made her smile.

Rain trickled down through the thick canopy of leaves overhead. The world no longer burned. Her breathing mixed with his was the only thing she could hear over the patter of water. They were no longer looking for their family, because the world was empty, abandoned. All the people and all the walkers had gone. The world belonged to the hunter and his wife. And that's what she was now, maybe what she always was. It felt right. She loved him and he loved her and together they were alone, alone in a wonderful kind of bliss, a garden of eden.

The room was filled with the delicious smell of roasting meat when she woke. Beth's mouth was watering before she even opened her eyes. When she opened them, she came face to face with Daryl who was lying on his side next to her. He had put his clothes back on—jeans and a button down shirt. His clothes and his hair looked slightly damp. His fingers were lightly trailing the naked skin on her back.

“You smell like rain,” she mumbled sleepily, “What were you doin'?”

“Watchin' you sleep.”

“Why?”

“Cause you're jus' so fuckin' beautiful.”

“Stop, Daryl, just stop,” she muttered burying her face in the pillowcase.

“I got you—us, a rabbit for dinner,” he told her.

Her stomach growled at the mere mention of food and she nodded a "thanks" to him.

“How long was I asleep? What time is it?”

“Dunno, a few hours. Not dawn yet. Ain't matter anymore does it?”

She sat up and smiled and swung her feet over the side of the bed in this world where time moved in strange and unpredictable ways. The fire was still blazing in the hearth, brighter than ever, filling the room with its orange cast. No light crept in between the boards yet.

“This place, it feels,” she reached for the right word, “Different.”

“Nah. It's the same as it ever was.”

“Then why?” she looked at him waiting for an answer.

“It's us. We're different.”

His fingers twisted through hers where they rested on the blanket in between them. She could feel it too. Their relationship had changed. It was fluid like a river, always had been, but it had deepened and now coursed through both of them, relentless, threatening to drown them. And it would drown them. She knew that now. The same fear that trembled through her was reflected on the dark shining surface of his eyes, but there was something else there, trust, faith, a belief in her, in them, and that curled its fingers around the fear and choked it.

“C'mon. The food's done now. And the water should be warm enough by the time we're done eatin',” he said.

Beth nodded and she sat up on the counter with him. Daryl passed her a plastic blue plate with half a rabbit on it. She noticed a sauce pan of blackened vegetables off to the side.

“What happened?” she asked, pointing at the pan.

“Was gonna make you the green beans and get ya a rabbit, but I forgot about them while I was huntin' and it took longer than I thought. They were burnt when I got back,” he told her, “Sorry.”

“'s ok, Daryl,” she said, rubbing his thigh, “I know ya burned them on purpose because ya hate them,” she teased.

“Is that whatcha think?”

“It's what I know,” said sticking her tongue out at him.

He set down his plate and lunged at her, his fingers digging into her sides and wriggling against her skin until she was doubled over in laughter and she could barely breathe. Goosebumps had started to rise on her skin despite the warmth of the room. Daryl pulled back when he noticed.

“Gonna get sick if ya don't put some clothes on, woman,” he growled.

He took off his vest and slung it around her shoulders. Something small and metal rattled around in the pocket. It sounded like a quarter or a button. Beth wondered if he still had some of the money from the country club. Her fingers reached for the snap that held the pocket closed. Daryl shot her an anxious glance and pushed the plate back into her hands.

“C'mon, eat so we can take our bath,” he said.

She took a bite of the rabbit. It was juicy and she could tell he had attempted to season it with some rosemary, from the taste of it. She ate with one hand and her other hand kept going to the pocket on the vest, squeezing and prodding it, trying to guess what was in it. The object felt slightly smaller than a quarter, but Beth couldn't remember the last time she had even seen a quarter so she felt like she could be slightly off. The center was hollow so it couldn't have been a piece of change or a button that had fallen off. Something large was attached to the outer edge, something like a diamond maybe.

_Oh._

Beth dropped her hand back into her lap. Daryl was studying her face over the rabbit leg he was chewing on. The corners of her lips curved up into a smile.

By the time they finished eating, their faces and hands were covered in grease. Both of them licked their fingers clean. She gave him back his vest and went into the bathroom to pee. The tub of water was steaming by now. By the time she came out of the little closet that held the toilet, Daryl was already in the bath. They hadn't lit any candles, but they left the door to the bathroom thrown open and the light from the fireplace filtered in, giving the room just enough of a dreamy glow to see by.

She slipped off her panties and climbed the steps into the tub. Daryl had his eyes cast down at the water. She sat opposite of him and her ankle brushed against the side of his hip where his skin was bare.

_Oh._

Her pulse quickened realizing this was the first time they had been naked together. Daryl still seemed anxious, slightly uncomfortable. He crossed his arms over his chest and rubbed his upper arms every few minutes. Beth had been getting over her self-consciousness. She no longer felt awkward about her small breasts or the way her ribs and hip bones poked out. Not after the way he had practically worshipped her body the last few times they had been nearly naked together. She hoped one day she'd be able to do the same for him.

She wriggled her foot against his side and his arms relaxed. They cleaned themselves up. Beth washed her hair and Daryl even washed his. When they finished, Beth squeezed in next to Daryl and he sunk down into the tub and laid his head on her shoulder. Her fingers brushed over his scars as she stroked his back.

The water was deliciously warm and it was soothing all her tired muscles. It must have been soothing Daryl's too, because after a few minutes he fell asleep, his body still slumped against hers. The weight of him pressed down her shoulder. At the same time he was both heavy and vulnerable. He was decidedly human again. She let him stay like that until the water began to cool off. She got out first and dried off. She pulled on a clean pair of panties and her nightgown and then slipped out of the room to allow him some privacy. He joined her in the main room a few minutes later, wearing the black sweatpants and a t-shirt, his hair still damp.

They crawled into bed together. It felt so comforting to be back in a real bed, even one with a mattress that was as lumpy as a pile of old straw. Daryl wrapped his arms around her waist and pushed his face into her chest. He took in a deep, satisfied sounding breath. Beth draped her arm over his shoulder and drew him closer to her. Holding him like that she could feel that all the tenseness had left his body. As tired as they both were, they still laid there awake for a long while.

“I was thinkin' we should stay here,” Daryl started, his voice breathy and tired, “Forever.”

Fear trembled through Beth, “You mean give up the search for the others?”

He nodded slowly into her chest. Her fingers curled in the back of his shirt. She didn't know if she could give up. It was safer to just stay here, but Maggie, Glenn, Rick, they were their family. How could she and Daryl just give up on them. Daryl didn't say anything further. His hot damp breaths warmed the skin between her breasts and she was left to worry about how she was going to convince him that they were going to have to leave this place eventually—even if she herself didn't really want to.

A few more weeks passed. The days grew even colder and they kept the fireplace or stove burning more often than not. Daryl wouldn't allow them to leave it going while they were sleeping for fear someone would see the smoke and catch them unawares. Instead, he brought down several blankets from the attic and piled them on top of the quilt. Both of them were sleeping in warmer clothes now. Beth traded the night gown for the black yoga pants and a long sleeved loose fitting top. Daryl was still wearing the sweatpants every night, but had traded his t-shirt for a blue-gray top that was almost identical to the one Beth wore. Both shirts were the same size which was tight fitting on Daryl and swallowed Beth's tiny frame.

Beth had drawn up a calendar the day after they returned. Daryl found an old chalkboard in the loft and they had scratched lines and boxes into it with a tiny stub of chalk. The day after they returned was dubbed “December 1st of the 1st year” and Beth had decided it was a Friday because that day of the week always felt so hopeful to her. Fridays were the end of the week and the very beginning of the weekend. Saturdays weren't as good because by the end of the day, the weekend would already be half over. Every night they marked off a day and Beth wondered how many days it had been all together since they left the prison. How long had it just been her and Daryl?

The car they found near the church was still weighing on her mind and sometimes she would find herself thinking about it when she was idle for too long. She wished they would have checked it out further, maybe gone up the road a few miles. Staying put at the cabin wasn't advancing their search for Maggie and Rick in any way. Even though they still went for daily walks and checked all the spots where they had nailed colored cloths to trees as a sign to the others, they never received a response back. They might as well be shooting radio waves out into space. They'd probably have a better chance of getting a response from an alien species then they would from anyone of their group.

By now it was becoming clear to Beth and to Daryl as well, that Rick and the others must have left the area. She didn't even want to consider the other possibility—that they were all dead.

They had talked about leaving the cabin and heading north. Daryl was very much against it, but she was wearing him down. She still had the map with the road to Washington D.C. marked out on it. It seemed reasonable to think that if Maggie and Rick had found that car and that map, they might have considered heading north in hopes that there'd be something better, safer, at the capital. Beth still had the spoon from the country club too and often times late at night she'd find herself staring into space with the spoon in one had and the map in the other.

Daryl was far more skeptical, but he had to realize that their search was turning up nothing and if they wanted to continue it, they would have to leave the area. She wasn't exactly thrilled about leaving the cabin either. It had come to be “home”, the one she shared with Daryl. They had become self-sufficient and Beth believed that they could easily live out the rest of their lives together in this place.

But therein lied another worry—Daryl was a good twenty years older than she was. He would certainly die before her if they managed to avoid becoming walker food and they grew old together. The thought of being all alone for another twenty plus years after Daryl died, absolutely terrified her. They needed to be back with their group.

As Daryl grew more comfortable with his relationship with Beth, he grew less worried about what Rick and Maggie were going to say about the relationship. His biggest worry now was how dangerous it was going to be to leave the safety of the cabin and be out there again, maybe permanently if they failed to find the group and it was likely that one or both of them would be injured or even killed on the way.

Beth finally convinced him to leave the cabin with her in search of the others and they set a date, March 14th as the day they would set out for Washington D.C. Beth wanted to leave sooner, but Daryl was right. They needed to plan and prepare. It would also be easier to travel in the spring when there would hopefully be less snow up north. Beth didn't know. She'd never been to the north during the winter.

Beth tried not to think about it too much. They had a good long couple of months ahead of them to enjoy their time with each other at the cabin. Knowing that they would be leaving made her want to stay inside more often because every time they were out hunting she was reminded that one day they wouldn't have a warm safe place to come back to and curl up in bed with each other. Daryl seemed to feel the same and was content to spend long evenings inside with her and to lay in bed with her longer every morning although that was partly because neither of them wanted to crawl out of the warmth of the bed.

A few weeks ago, they had scavenged a library and Beth brought back what books she could carry. She had found a copy of “To Kill a Mockingbird” and a book about the constellations and the mythology behind each one. She kept those hidden—a surprise for Daryl's birthday. She also had a hidden a carton of cigarettes that she had found in a dented filing cabinet in one of the offices.

Daryl hadn't been too thrilled about bringing so many books back, but after the long walk carrying the heavy bag was over with, he warmed up to the idea. When she was picking which books to take, she picked ones that she thought Daryl would like and ones that she hadn't read before. Together they had been reading every night. They had finished “Slaughterhouse Five,” “The Road,” and “Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter.” She had been right, Daryl had liked all of them. His favorite though had been the last one. He said he could see it being true and there being this whole hidden history of Abraham Lincoln killing vampires. His reaction reminded her just how superstitious he was.

They had decided to celebrate Christmas and Daryl's birthday on the same day at Daryl's insistence. He kept telling Beth that his birthday was no big deal and they shouldn't even waste time celebrating it. Beth wanted to do something nice for him anyways. She had found some plain blue wrapping paper in the loft and wrapped the books and the cigarettes while Daryl was out cleaning the rabbits they shot earlier that day. He had been saving the furs for the past month although he wouldn't tell Beth or let her see what exactly he was doing with them. She supposed, like that thing, that _ring_ , in his vest pocket, she'd have to wait to find out.

Beth brought the presents down with the box of Christmas decorations. They didn't have a tree, but she figured she could hang up some garlands over the fireplace and put a wreath over the door.

She sifted through the wardrobe looking for something nicer to wear for the evening. There were some smaller sized clothing buried at the back of the wardrobe. In the end, she decided on a creamy white v-neck sweater that hugged the little curves she had and a pair of jeans that only had one hole in the left knee. She brushed out her hair and left it flowing long over her back. It had grown so much. The last time she had cut it had been a year ago at the prison when Maggie trimmed it up for her. She felt an ache of longing when she thought about her sister. She wondered if Maggie felt it too. She had to stay positive. They were going to find Maggie and Glenn and everyone else and maybe next year, they'd all be together, somewhere safe and they'd have a big Christmas celebration.

The front door creaked open and a gust of icy air brushed past her and made her rub her arms. Daryl stomped his boots off just outside the door and kicked them off before coming inside. He was dragging something, pine needles scratched the floor. He also had two bundles under his arm wrapped in animal skins. He leaned the small pine tree against the wall next to the door and dropped the packages onto the couch while he barred the door.

He brushed snow off the shoulders of his denim jacket and shook it out of his long dark hair. His hair had grown a lot too. She remembered when it was shorter at the farm. She guessed he hadn't had it cut since before the world ended. Maybe she should ask him if he wanted her to cut it for him sometime.

Daryl slipped his crossbow and the string of rabbit carcasses over his head. He hung the crossbow on the nail next to the door and tossed the rabbits on the counter. He pulled off his jacket and draped it over the coat rack that was crammed into the corner.

“A Christmas tree?” she asked.

“Thought ya might like one,” he said, “Never had one before.”

Only then did he look up at Beth. His mouth fell open slightly and his eyes darted back and forth taking in the sight of her.

“Ya look good in that,” he mumbled when he realized she was staring at him with a grin while her cheeks reddened.

“Ain't nothin' special,” she laughed.

“Hmpf. I'm gonna get cleaned up.”

He dug around in the wardrobe behind her, grumbling something to himself before disappearing into the bathroom with an armful of clothes.

The tree he had cut down was a straggly little pine tree that was about the same height as she was. There was a Christmas tree stand in the box of decorations so she took it out and got it set up while Daryl was changing his clothes. She moved the presents including the two wrapped in animal hides, under the tree. The box of ornaments wasn't much, mostly just some round red and gold baubles, a few reindeer, angels, and santas.

The bathroom door creaked open and Daryl stepped back into the main room. He had changed into a clean pair of jeans and a black button down shirt with a gray vest—the same one he had worn weeks ago when they ate the turkey on the roof.

“Well, don't you look nice,” she told him, throwing her arms around his neck, “Happy Birthday, baby.”

She stood on tip-toe and leaned in to kiss him. His hands tightened around her hips as he kissed her before sliding down farther and giving her ass a squeeze.

“Merry Christmas,” he said as he pulled away.

They reluctantly pulled apart and Daryl went to the counter and began to quarter the rabbits with the big butcher knife. Beth started to put ornaments on the tree and he joined her after the rabbits were sizzling on in the pan on top of the stove. He watched Beth hang a little red cardinal on a higher branch. He picked up a snowman and hesitated about where he should put it.

“Never done this before,” Daryl muttered.

Beth considered asking why Merle and him never had a Christmas tree, but she suspected that she already knew the answer.

“But you must have always wanted to?” Beth said quietly.

“Nah, not until recently. Wanted to do it with you.”

“Glad ya get to have your first time with me,” she said, stepping in front of him. She turned her back to him and took his wrist and guided his hand to one of the middle branches and he placed the ornament there.

They emptied the box of ornaments and Daryl wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her so she could reach the top of the tree and put the little bronze star on top. They stood together admiring their work in the glow of the crackling fireplace as dusk fell outside.

“Don't look like any tree I've ever had,” Beth laughed.

“Is that bad?”

“Nah. It's just different,” she said, turning her head to look at him, “Better.”

“C'mon let's eat. I'm starvin',” he said, pulling her over to the counter.

They dished up plates full of rabbit and a jar of sliced potatoes that she had heated and added some rosemary and garlic salt to. They had a picnic in front of the fire instead of sitting up on the counter tonight. It was still snowing outside and this felt like an occasion too special to squander it by sitting on that counter. She cleared away the plates when they finished and brought over the presents.

“These are for you,” she said, stacking the three wrapped in blue paper in front of Daryl.

“Those are for you,” he told her, nodding at the two bundles wrapped in animal hides.

“Nice choice of wrappin' paper. So that's what you've been savin' the skins for.”

“Not quite. Open it and you'll see.”

“You open one of yours first. It's your birthday. Not mine.”

He grumbled at that and picked over the presents nervously. His eyes darted back and forth between Beth and the stack in front of him.

“Jus' open this one first,” she said tossing the one that was the carton of cigarettes into his lap.

He nodded and picked the paper off, peeling it as slowly and as carefully as if he was peeling the skin off a rabbit.

“You tryin' to kill me faster, woman?” he asked when he saw what it was.

“Nah, I just saw ya were runnin' low. And maybe you'll share a few with me.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, “Now open one of yours. This one,” he said, putting one of the bundles in her lap.

Beth carefully loosened the leather cord that was threaded through the top of the bundle, holding it closed. She reached in to feel that the inside was lined with soft fur. She pulled out the object--a pair of boots, that was contained within. The boots were different from her cowboy boots. These were made for the snow, for the cold. The boots were made from the same animal hide he had used to wrap her presents. The upper part of the boot was wrapped with brown and white speckled rabbit fur and laced with a flat piece of leather that crisscrossed over the fur, stopping a few inches below the the top of the boot where it was knotted. The inside of the boots were lined with more rabbit fur.

“Wool probably woulda been better,” he mumbled as he watched her feel the insides.

“Where did ya find these?” she asked breathlessly.

“Didn't. Made 'em.”

She managed a thank you, but other than that she couldn't speak. There was a lump in her throat. Her eyes teared up. She had never received anything so beautiful and thoughtful in all her life. She had been given lots of nice things by her parents, by Maggie and Shawn, but nothing so nice, nothing that had so much care put into it.

“Try 'em on,” he said nervously, “I need to make sure they fit ya.”

She pulled them on over her wool socks and stood up.

“They fit!” she said as she did a couple circuits around the room. The boots were comfortable and after a few minutes her feet were sweating in them because they were so warm.

“Do you like them?”

“I _love_ them, Daryl,” she said, trying not to get choked up.

“Good. Cause I can't return 'em if ya don't.”

She sat back down next to him. He opened the constellation book next and flipped through it. His lips curved up into a small smile and she could tell he appreciated the thought behind it. When it warmed up they would start going back on the roof again and he'd teach her more constellations, but for now they could read the myths together every night by the warmth of the fire.

“Another book?” Daryl guessed, shaking the last present in front of him.

“Open it and see.”

He tore off the paper slowly, just like he did with the last two, like he was trying to savor it. He set aside the crumpled paper and held the tattered little copy of “To Kill a Mockingbird” in his big rough hands. He didn't look up at her. He kept staring at the book like he didn't think it was real or something.

“Thought ya should get the chance to finish it,” she said.

He was silent and the room was still except for the crackling of the fire and the shimmering waves of light it cast on the two of them.

“Or we can read it together. From start to finish,” he said finally.

“Or that,” she agreed.

“Open your last one,” he told her, passing her the other animal hide wrapped gift.

This one was tied with a leather cord around the top too and the inside was also lined with fur. Beth reached in and strings twanged as she pulled forth a small wooden instrument. She recognized it as a ukelele. She had played one a handful of times at Jimmy's parents' house. She wasn't nearly as good at it as she was at piano or guitar, but she knew the basics and with time she could probably teach herself more.

She smiled and held it up to her chest, strumming a few chords.

“Do ya know how to play it?” Daryl asked.

“A little. I can learn more.”

“Can you play somethin' now?”

“I can try.”

Daryl brought over the stool that was tucked under the counter and placed it in front of the fireplace. Beth climbed up and hooked her boots over the top of the lower rung of the stool. Daryl threw himself down on the couch in front of her. She suddenly felt nervous. This was different from when she sang to him in bed at night and different from when she sang to the room full of corpses. This felt like a concert and the same nerves she used to get performing in front of people were being pumped along through her veins. She had never given a concert for one person before, for one man, for the last man on Earth.

Beth's fingers brushed the strings and she strummed a few chords. They weren't part of any song in particular, but they felt right to her in that moment and she kept strumming them until a song welled up inside her and the chords changed slightly to adjusted to the song. He foot measured the beat, tapping it slowly against the rung of the stool.

_I walked across an empty land_

_I knew the pathway like the back of my hand_

_I felt the earth beneath my feet_

_Sat by the river and it made me complete_

_Oh simple thing, where have you gone?_

_I'm getting old and I need something to rely on_

_So tell me when you're gonna let me in_

_I'm getting tired and I need somewhere to begin_

Beth glanced up at him. His hands were in his lap. His fingers were toying with something that she couldn't quite make out. His shoulders were hunched forward. His face was mostly covered by shadows. A few splotches of orange light flickered on his cheeks and lips. She could just make out a tiny smile. She strummed a few more chords before picking up the next verse.

_I came across a fallen tree_

_I felt the branches of it looking at me_

_Is this the place we used to love?_

_Is this the place that I've been dreaming of?_

She repeated the chorus again and ramped up the pace of the strumming for the last part of the song.

_And if you have a minute why don't we go?_

_Talk about it somewhere only we know?_

_This could be the end of everything_

_So why don't we go somewhere only we know?_

_Somewhere only we know._

Beth finished the rest of the song which was just the chorus repeated a few more times. Her eyes flicked up every few seconds as she sang, looking at Daryl. He was still turning over whatever little object he had in his hand, staring down at it intently.

She finished the song and her fingers stilled on the strings. She swallowed and licked around the inside of her mouth which had dried up from singing. She readjusted herself on top of the stool and plucked at the strings again until another song started to pour out.

_Hold me in your arms_

_Love me like your best friends did_

_Promise I won't hurt you, kid_

_Hold me really tight until the stars look big_

_Never let me go_

Her eyes shot up at him. He had leaned back against the couch. The shadow she was casting covered much of his body and face. A bit of light leaked through the crook of her elbow and spilled across his thigh where his fist was resting, closed around something.

_All the world is ours,_

_Like they say in Scarface, kid_

_You can push your drugs and I can make it big,_

_Sing at CBGB's have a real good gig_

_Hey you never know._

_Cause baby we were born to live fast and die young,_

_Born to be bad, have fun,_

_Honey, you and me can be one,_

_Just believe, come on._

_If you love me hardcore, then don't walk away,_

_It's a game boy,_

_I don't wanna play,_

_I just wanna be yours,_

_Like I always say,_

_Never let me go._

Beth finished the rest of that song and then started another one because Daryl made no attempt to get up or tell her to stop and because she was feeling the music course through her, a well that couldn't be stopped even though her mouth was dry and her fingers were aching. She'd play until they bled. She sang two more after that one and then started on a slower one that wouldn't rely on so much strumming of the instrument as it was mostly vocals.

_Oh, say can you see my stars_

_The night time is almost ours_

_To wander the alleys and look at the bars_

_Night time is almost ours_

Daryl looked almost completely entranced now. He had leaned forward again and the light played on his face so she could see that he had that breathless, lovesick sort of look. The breath caught in her throat and she let her eyes drop to watch her fingers as they moved amongst the strings, slowly and carefully plucking them for this song.

_The headlights from passing cars_

_They illuminate my face then leave me in the dark_

_The voice of Nirvana says, “Come as you are,”_

_And I will_

_The night time is almost ours._

_The sway of the hips and arms_

_Will cradle you from afar_

_They swing till your tired and send you to Mars_

_Night time is almost ours._

The last chords of the song lingered in the room. Daryl still didn't speak. Beth's mouth was unbearably dry and her fingers were bleeding now. She took a deep breath and shook out her hands. Daryl reached forward with a bottle of water and she took a long drink before settling back onto the stool. Beth picked up the instrument once more and cradled it to her chest because she knew he wanted one last song—their song.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics in this chapter (in order of appearance) are:   
> Somewhere Only We Know by Keane  
> Never Let Me Go by Lana Del Rey  
> Oh Say Can You See by Lana Del Rey


	33. Thirty Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update 3/13/2016: The build up for the big thing that is coming ended up being longer than I expected so it won't be happening until next chapter at the earliest. There's a lot going on in Daryl's head right now and I wanted to explore that before we get to the big scene.
> 
> As always, thank you for reading and thank you for taking the time to comment! I truly appreciate all the kind words!

Daryl wasn't even sure if it _was_ his birthday. Their calendar was more than likely off, if that was even possible, since no one made or kept calendars anymore. Either way, it certainly didn't _feel_ like his birthday. There was no tackily decorated pink cake from Wal-Mart, no six pack of beer, no awkward sex with whatever skank Merle had brought home for him, and no Merle teasing him about his failings with women.

There was only him and Beth and this place and the music that drifted through the room like a strange kind of magick. She was outlined with a fiery orange glow and her face was in shadow, but every now and then a stray ray of light would strike the glossy surface of her eyes or her lips or dance across her fingers as they plucked a string. Her feet tapped the beat in the boots he had made for her—boots that he had started working on the day after they got back from their vacation and had only just finished yesterday morning.

The cabin had the basics to start processing the furs and anything else he needed, he scavenged when they went on a run. He had been waking up very early, hours before the sunrise, to work on them. Beth was aware that he was saving the rabbit skins and furs, but she was never awake when he worked on them. He made sure of that. He would sneak out of bed, work for a few hours and creep back under the covers just before the sky started to lighten. He wanted to be there holding her when she opened her eyes because the part of the day when they would just lie there in that sleepy bliss, tangled around each other, was the  _best_ part of the day in his opinion.

Beth's cowboy boots were old and worn. Holes were starting in them and the heel was peeling off the left one. They were poorly insulated. The ones he made her would keep her feet warm and dry through the winter months.

Her reaction to them was well worth all the hard work and sneaking around it took to make them. He wasn't sure exactly what she was feeling when she saw them, but he guessed it was similar to how he felt when he opened the “To Kill A Mockingbird” book. It was a meaningful gift, something full of thought and care. She didn't know about the other books his father had caught him reading and destroyed. She didn't know how disappointing it was to never get to finish a book. Yet, somehow it was like she _did_ _know_ about all those times and was trying to make up for it by giving him the book he mentioned weeks ago and by reading with him every night. She made sure they got to finish each book.

He hated lugging that heavy bag back from the library. He grumbled and swore the whole way and part of that was because he had hidden the ukelele in the bottom of the backpack and he was worried the books were going to crush it or snap the strings. When they got home, he quickly unloaded the books and hastily took the bag up to the attic where he checked over the instrument before tucking it away in a box.

After that initial anxiety and irritation wore off, he was glad she had taken the books. With the days being downright freezing and neither of them wanting to venture outside much, it was good to have something to keep them busy besides constantly being all over each other like a couple horny teenagers. Not that Daryl minded that, after all he never had the chance to be a horny teenager and he was thoroughly enjoying this new experience. He was trying to hold back, as hard as it was some days, because he didn't want to push it over into full on sex yet. He was trying to figure her out first, figure out how she touched herself, how she made herself come. He wanted to be able to do that for her before he fucked her. He wanted to be able to guarantee her satisfaction, partly because he felt it was tied to his own.

It was still a mystery to him how she worked her fingers. They had both kept their underwear on during all their make out, touching, and grinding sessions because if they didn't he was sure one or both of them would slip and it would go further. He could only see her knuckles moving beneath the fabric of her panties as she straddled his lap and it was hard to tell exactly what her fingers were doing. He wanted to ask her to show him, take off her panties and let him watch, but the words just wouldn't come. His palms would get sweaty and his heart would race just thinking about it. He couldn't ask. He would just show her the same patience she showed him.

While he waited, he was doing the next best thing—sneaking reading the Kama Sutra book Beth took from that new age shop. He had been reading it while he worked on preparing the rabbit furs and making the boots. It was more than just crazy positions for people to twist themselves into. It had a lot of other tips about how to draw out pleasure, how to be present in the moment and enjoy it, and how to give good oral sex. That was something he'd never done before. A few women had asked him to go down on them, but he had refused, mostly because he didn't know how to make it feel good and they usually asked after he had provided them with a short and unsatisfying sexual experience which left him with too much guilt and shame to want to even try.

He wasn't going to try with Beth until he felt sure of himself and he was getting there. He was pretty confident that he could do the stuff the book described, it was more of a matter of getting her in the right position and getting her panties off and hoping she wouldn't freak out when he moved his mouth lower over her ribcage, down her stomach and hip bones to that sweet little spot she was always touching during their make out sessions.

Going down on her was far from the last thing he'd been fantasizing about over the last few weeks. The ring had warmed in his palm in the time he'd been toying with it as he watched her sing and now as she settled back onto the stool to perform one last song—their song, the one he'd been waiting for all night, it seemed to be throbbing against his palm. This wasn't the first time he'd thought about it and he understood what the ring meant and why he had felt compelled to take it from the jewelry shop in the first place. It was never supposed to be an apology. It was meant to be a promise—a promise that they'd be together forever.

Daryl supposed they already were married in a sense, but with the departure from the cabin hanging over them, he wanted to make sure that she knew how he felt about her and to know that he considered her his wife, but it was more than that. Beth deserved to have a ring and maybe they should even write vows although he guessed hers would be a thousand times better than anything he could write. Whatever ceremony they had would be different from any ceremony they could have had if the world never ended. They didn't have a wedding dress or a suit. They didn't have a bunch of flowers and there would be no cake. There would be no family and friends surrounding them. Maybe though, if they ever found Rick, Maggie, and Glenn, they could have some kind of do-over so they could be part of it. It would be different from anything that was shown on TV, but he was determined to make it better for her.

Daryl wasn't sure how to propose either. He knew the gist of it. He had seen enough crappy made-for-TV movies to know it involved a man buying a ring and getting down on one knee in front of the woman or if the man was creative, he'd hide the ring in a cupcake or a scoop of mashed potatoes at a fancy restaurant. The only other proposal he knew of was Glenn and Maggie's which he had overhead Maggie telling Beth how Glenn had just put the ring in her hand as they watched the sunrise. Beth had said she thought it was sweet, but in Daryl's opinion, she didn't sound too impressed. He liked the idea of just putting the ring in her palm, but he wanted to think of something better. He had considered the food idea, but he didn't have any cute little pastries to hide it in. He thought about hiding it in a can of green beans to be funny, but the thought of something so beautifully made that cost thousands of dollars mixed in with slimy store brand green beans made him feel nauseous. What if she choked on the ring, broke a tooth biting into it, or just accidentally swallowed it? Who ever came up with the ring-in-the-food proposal idea was a fucking idiot, he decided.

He was trying to find a way that was simple, but would still surprise Beth. He had come up with a few ideas over the past week. One of which was to take her out on the roof and have her play the game again only this time the prize would be the ring instead of a kiss. That could work, but it was freezing and the roof was covered with snow and besides, he had done that game before. It wasn't new or surprising. His other ideas were less exciting—putting it in her boot before they went hunting, dropping it into an rabbit's carcass as they gutted it (another idea he threw out), or just letting her open the damn pocket on his vest that she kept poking and picking at whenever he let her wear it.

He didn't know what he was going to say yet either. Once again, he hoped the words would just come, but he knew he shouldn't count on that. He knew he'd tell her he loved her and that he wanted to be hers forever. Outside of that he didn't know. Maybe he'd say he couldn't imagine his life without her—and he couldn't. She had become the center of the universe, the only thing that mattered anymore, maybe the only thing that _ever_ mattered. She had helped him to begin to unburden himself, something that he never thought was possible before. He could see now that he had a positive effect on her too. She was strong now. She could take care of herself. She had a certain confidence that she lacked when she was at the farm and the prison. Best of all, she was happy and he was willing to let himself admit that he was at least partially responsible for her cheerfulness.

Beth had begun to strum the instrument again. The slow and beautifully longing notes of their song drifted over him. His mind cleared. He let his back melt into the couch. Her face was in shadow again, except for her lips, which poured over the words, sending chills down his spine. She seemed so big in the firelight, towering over him, perched on that stool. Her shadow stretched across the room, covering him completely. She was outlined by fire and once again she felt like she wasn't human. This time Daryl wasn't afraid. He hadn't been since that night they returned home. He had seen her look at him in the same way he had looked at her and had decided they were both not human together.

His heart was fluttering his chest. His mouth felt dry. She was reaching the end of the song and he was wondering what he should do when she finished.

_It's you, it's you, i_ _t's all for you,_

_Everything I do_

_I tell you all the time_

_Heaven is a place on Earth with you_

_Tell me all the things you want to do_

_I heard that you like the bad girls, honey, is that true?_

_It's better than I ever even knew_

_They say that the world was built for two_

_Only worth living if somebody is loving you_

_Baby now you do._

Her fingers stilled on the strings. A jolt of anxiety caused Daryl to quickly slip the ring back into his pocket. He clapped for her and she gave a little bow before climbing down from the stool and laying the ukelele on top of it. She was rubbing her hands and shaking them out. She flopped down onto the couch next to him. He took her hands in his and examined them. The tips of them were raw and some of them were bleeding. He mumbled a guilt-filled apology. He should have said it was enough after one or two songs. He shouldn't have been so greedy.

“It's ok, Daryl. I wanted to. For you. For your birthday,” she said gently, pulling her hands away.

Instead of apologizing more he thanked her because he truly was grateful and enjoyed hearing her play very much.

“Can we do this again? Next year I mean,” Daryl asked.

“Of course,” she said.

He threw an arm around her back and pulled her tight to his side and held her there wishing she could just melt into him, wishing they didn't have to leave this place, wishing they could just live here together and grow old. He knew that was impossible in this world, but this place was different and it had made him believe that they might be able to. But he was getting old and she was so young. Even if they did stay here and live out the rest of their natural lives, he would still die before her and leave her to spend the rest of her years all alone. That was a painful thought for him.

He tilted his head and kissed her forehead protectively. He was overflowing with that sad, longing again, wishing things could have been different, wishing he was younger or she was older so they would have more or less the same amount of years left.

“Thinkin' about somethin'?” she asked him, her brow furrowing slightly, “Sorry I wasn't able to make ya a cake, but ya know, you should still make a wish,” she said. She wriggled away from him and took one of the candles off the mantle—a little tea light, and cupped it in her palms, “Here, blow it out and make a wish.”

The flickering orange light played on her skin giving her that beautiful unearthly aura. Her eyes were shinning and sparkling as the flame danced across the black surface of her pupils. Her lips curved up into a smile that only grew wider the longer they stared at each other. God, she was so fucking beautiful, the embodiment of youth, hope, innocence, joy. Beth, the girl who still believed in making birthday wishes even though the world had gone to shit. Beth, the girl who encompassed all the light that was left in the fucking world.

Daryl didn't know what to wish for. There were several things he wanted, ranging from unattainable to possible. He wished they could have been born into another place in time, one before the walkers—and maybe they had. Maybe they'd lived a dozen lives together. Maybe that's why she had said in his dream that she had known him forever—for a hundred years. He didn't know if he believed in past lives, but it was a nice thought. He wished they could have been born into a universe where they could have fallen in love, gotten married, had a kid, and grown old together, unobstructed by walkers or assholes like the Governor. He wished they could be together forever. He wished he could give her a proper proposal, proper wedding, proper wedding night—everything that she had probably always dreamed about because he had no doubt that she was one of those girls who had been planning her wedding since she was five years old.

Daryl wished he could make her smile everyday, wished he could make her laugh every time those eyes of hers filled with tears, wished he could curl up in a warm bed with her every night and hear her sigh contentedly as she lay her head on his shoulder. He wished he could be by her side forever, wished he could walk hand-in-hand with her through an unending forest as the sunlight filtered through the trees, wished he could carry her up the porch steps every day after their daily walk.

Beth was still smiling at him over the flame, waiting so patiently, so lovingly. In the end, he wished for Beth to be happy, healthy, and live a long life and hoped that he'd be able to be a part of her life for a very long time. He made sure that he worded it carefully in his head because he had heard the phrase “be careful what you wish for” and was afraid if he worded it wrong something terrible would happen. He gave her one last look and blew out the flame. The smell of sulfur drifted up, carried by a thin wisp of smoke.

“What did you wish for?” she asked, setting the candle aside.

“Can't tell ya. Or it won't come true,” he growled.

He locked his fingers around her lower back and pulled her closer so her legs were draped over his thighs. The tip of her nose brushed against his and she closed the inch between them and kissed him for a minute before pulling back.

“Come on, let's get in bed,” she said, standing up and pulling him to his feet.

“Beth,” he started with the warning tone creeping into his voice.

His heart was thudding in his ears. They had never had any of their making out or touching sessions in the bed before. The thought made him nervous. It was hard enough to keep it from going too far when they were on the couch.

“It's ok. We don't have to go all the way. We can stop.”

“Dunno if we can.”

“We can,” she promised.

Her fingers curled around the hem of her sweater and she rolled it up and over her head. It hit the floor with a soft thud. She ran her hands down his chest and began to work the buttons on the gray vest. He didn't try to fight her. He actually wanted to feel her fingers on his naked chest and back. She had done it before and didn't ask him to further talk about his dad or his scars. He knew she would listen if he did want to talk, but she never pressured him about it. He knew by now that she saw beyond his scars.

She pushed the vest down over his shoulders and he helped her to undo the buttons on the black shirt he had on underneath it. Her bra and their jeans and socks followed. They kissed in front of the bed for a few minutes before he laid down on his back and she climbed on top of him, straddling him. He could feel the heat of her through his boxers and it made him ache knowing there was so little physically separating him from being inside of her.

Beth was kissing down his neck, wet open-mouthed, hungry kisses. She gently sunk her teeth into the side of his neck and when he groaned and arched up into her, she bit down a little harder. God, she was going to drive him fucking crazy. In the back of his mind he was asking himself why it had taken all these years, why it had taken this sweet innocent little woman to make him feel these things, to make his body react in the way it did.

She kissed back up to his ear, where she brushed his hair back and flicked her tongue across his earlobe before taking it between her teeth. Her breathing came in heavy pants right in his ear and it was causing him to squirm and buck his hips into her uncontrollably. She moved her mouth back down his neck to the little hollow at the base, gliding her tongue around it. She kissed and sucked and nibbled slowly, taking her time exploring the entirety of his ribs until she reached his stomach. As soon as her mouth left the hard bones for soft flesh he knew he was in trouble. She was getting too close to where his dick was throbbing, hard and ready, beneath the thin fabric of his boxers.

Her fingers slipped beneath the waistband of his boxers on either side of his hips and she pulled them down and off.

“Beth,” he groaned, but before he could say anything else her fingers were wrapped around the base of his dick and her tongue was sweeping out to taste it. She licked up and down the shaft a few times. They moved to the edge of the bed so she could kneel between his legs and not have to hold her head in such an awkward position.

She brushed her hair back out of her face as she settled in. Her fingers closed around his dick again. Now she looked nervous. He should just tell her to stop, that she didn't have to do this. The flat of her tongue pushed against against him, starting just above where her fingers were wrapped and going all the way up to circle around the tip. All thoughts of asking her to stop quickly went out the window as a throaty groan escaped him. Her lips closed around the head of his cock. His hips tensed up as he fought not to thrust into her mouth. It was so warm and wet and her lips were so soft around him. It had been years since he had a blowjob, but all ready this one made all the ones he'd ever gotten pale in comparison.

He suspected that he wasn't the only one who had been sneaking reading that book. She slid her mouth down farther and looked up at him innocently.

_Is this good? Am I doing it right?_

She seemed to be asking silently. He nodded at her and ran his fingers through her hair. Her mouth slid down all the way to meet her hand and he dug his fingernails into her scalp. She dragged her tongue along the length of his dick as she moved back up to the tip, her hand following close behind her mouth. He groaned as it slipped completely out of her mouth. He arched up slightly, begging her to take it back in. She smirked at him and her tongue brushed over the head of his cock again.

His heart was racing. He couldn't fucking think. She was driving him crazy with every flick of her tongue, every wide-eyed innocent little eye fuck she shot him while she moved slowly up and down him, licking, sucking, twisting her head. She was dragging her freehand across his inner thigh. He whimpered as she dug her fingernails into the flesh there. He was breathing her name over and over like it was the only word he knew. It was certainly the only one that mattered in that moment.

She built up speed finally after torturing him with slow pleasure. He pushed her hair back and held it behind her head as her head bobbed back and forth between his thighs. There was something so animalistic about the way she moved, the way she looked at him. All he could think about was how badly he wanted to do the same to her, how much he wanted to look up at her from between her thighs like that.

His muscles tensed up. He could feel the orgasm building up and he was trying to push it back. He had never come in someone's mouth before and he didn't know if Beth would be alright with it. He looked down at her and she flicked her eyes up to meet his and he couldn't hold back any longer. The first few drops came out in her mouth and she kept up the rhythm and didn't make any attempt to pull away from him. It was a lot again and he felt kind of bad for filling her mouth with it. When he finished he gently pulled away and fell back on the bed.

Beth swallowed and swiped the back of her hand across her lips before she laid next to him, watching him carefully.

“How was it?” she asked.

“Fuckin' fantastic,” he muttered, barely able to speak, “How? Where'd ya learn?”

“Been readin',” she said with a smile.

“Oh yeah?” he said, rolling over and pinning her beneath him. His fingers dug into her hips and he pulled her panties off. He tossed them over the side of the bed with the rest of their clothes. He pushed her legs apart and laid on his stomach in between them, “Me too.”

He was a bit surprised to find that she had been shaving herself down there. He knew she shaved her legs every week or so, but he didn't think she'd been shaving her pussy too. It wasn't completely clean, the hairs had started to grow back, but he guessed she'd shaved it within the last two weeks. He really didn't mind one way or the other, just like with her legs. He guessed she did mind one way or the other or she wouldn't bother shaving.

She gasped as he licked up her inner thigh and then kissed and sucked along the other one. He repeated the process, lightly sinking his teeth in a few times, moving up and down her thighs with his mouth, getting painfully close to her pussy each time. He wanted to drag it out, torture her like she tortured him. His eyes kept darting up to her face to make sure he wasn't hurting her or doing something that felt completely uncomfortable for her. Her head was thrown back against the pillows and her lips were parted slightly.

Only when she was whimpering his name over and over like a mantra, did he finally move in to taste her. He wrapped his hands around her thighs and threw her legs over his back so he could pull himself closer. He lightly dragged the tip of his tongue up her slit. It was tempting to slide his tongue inside, but he figured that might be best saved for later. When he reached the top, she arched up into him and her hands fisted in his hair and he guessed he had hit the sweet spot. He flicked his tongue across it a few more times just to make sure. Beth pressed her hips down against his lips and every other word falling out of her mouth was either his name or “fuck” or “god”.

_You like that, huh, sweetheart?_

The thought sent a hungry rush through him. He couldn't remember ever thinking anything even remotely similar any other time he'd had sex with a woman. He closed his mouth around her clit and sucked on it. She was pressing down against him again, even harder this time.

“God, Daryl,” Beth panted, twisting around beneath him, pulling his hair, begging.

He pulled back and lapped up her juices hungrily, running his tongue over her entrance again, spreading it open with his fingers this time so he could taste more of her. She was so wet now and only getting wetter the more he played with her. He pushed his tongue all the way inside, feeling his way around the tight cramped space by licking, flattening his tongue trying to fill her. His chin was dripping with her arousal by the time he let his tongue slide back out. His tongue went back to work her clit, building up speed and pressure until her legs were shaking against his back and she was saying his name in that pleading way.

He kept up the pace, speeding up if anything, not letting up, even when she was practically screaming his name, her fingers digging into his scalp as he slid a finger into her cunt. He had planned on adding another, but she was just so fucking tight he was scared of hurting her. He could feel her convulsing around his finger as she got closer. He'd seen her orgasm before, but nothing this intense. Her breath was coming in quick pants, she squirmed and bucked beneath him, her hands felt like they were going to tear out his hair.

“Fuck, Daryl, god, yes, please,” she begged.

Her body was tensing up beneath him, her legs trembled hard against his back. A different kind of sound surged up from the back of her throat, something between a gasp and a moan, surrounded by lots of quick breaths. She was being very loud and he had the urge to put his hand over her mouth lest they attract any walkers to their door. Her legs relaxed against his back and her body seemed to melt into the bed. He removed his finger and licked it clean while he watched her tiny ribs rising and falling, as she tried to calm her breathing down from the tumultuous state it was in. Daryl couldn't stop staring at her. He was overflowing with happiness every time his eyes fell upon her, knowing that he did that to her, he was the one who put her in such a state of bliss. He could do _that_.

“God, Daryl that was..fuck,” she mumbled, “Amazing. Where'd ya learn?”

“Same place as you.”

“Glad I took that book then,” she giggled.

She crawled under the covers without putting her clothes on. Daryl put out the fireplace and the candles and pulled his boxers back on before climbing in with her.

“We're gonna wake up freezin',” he growled in her ear as he pulled her body against his. Her skin was hot against his and sweat glued their bodies together every place their bare skin touched.

“Nah, I could never be cold with you,” she said. She nuzzled her face into his chest.

“I love you,” he whispered. He laid a kiss on her forehead and stroked her lower back.

“I love you too. I'm glad you had a good time on your birthday.”

“Hope we have somewhere safe to do this again next year.”

“We will. We'll find somewhere. We'll make somewhere if we have to.”

Daryl grunted. He didn't feel as hopeful, but as long as he had her that was all that mattered.

“Night, Beth.”

“Night, Daryl.”

His heart was still thudding quite loudly in his ears when closed his eyes, but he felt heavy and satisfied and didn't have much trouble falling into a deep sleep.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Daryl told Beth as he led her along through the trees.

Everything was green again and it was hot. Beth's palm was stuck to his, glued by sweat. It had been a year, but the smell of charred wood still hung heavy in the air.

“Where are we going?” Beth asked.

“You'll see.”

His heart was thudding in his chest and his palms were sweating something terrible, thinking about what he was going to ask her. He had thought of a million ways of doing it and a million places to do it, but this was the place he kept coming back to in his thoughts.

_We should burn it down._

The blackened wood appeared out of the trees. The skeleton of the frame still stood in places, wobbling weakly in the wind. The dirt here was mixed with gray ash. A few seedlings had begun to push their way up through the soot and vines had started to trail their way up the burnt frames. He led her around the back of the house to the tree that still had three little dings from where his crossbow arrows had once pinned a walker.

This was the place, the first major milestone on his journey with Beth. This was the place he learned to put it away, to let go, to open up, to let her in, even if at the time he had only opened the door a crack. That was all that Beth needed, because that's all the light ever needs to get into something.

“Open your eyes,” he commanded.

She did as he said and blinked confusedly in the bright sunlight. She shaded her eyes with her hand and looked over the ruins.

“We really destroyed this place, huh?” she asked.

_We really destroyed my past, huh?_

Maybe not destroyed it, but deconstructed it, tore it apart, burned it down to another state of existence, one that was manageable.

“Never thanked ya,” he said.

“For what?”

“For this,” he said, nodding at the burnt out shell.

_For helpin' me to start to heal._

She smiled and nodded as if she heard his thought.

“I knew it was what ya needed.”

“It was the beginnin' of somethin'. And that's why I brought ya here again. For another beginnin' or what I hope will be.”

He was shocked at the words coming out of his mouth. They sounded so eloquent. He had been practicing at home in front of the mirror, but he didn't expect it to sound this good.

“Daryl, what are you...” she started.

“Hey, is that one of my arrows over there?” he said, mostly to get her to look over her shoulder—a distraction. She turned around just as he knew she would.

His finger dipped in the pocket of his gray vest and hooked around the ring. He carefully drew it out, making sure to keep it hidden in his fist.

“I don't see anything,” she said, turning back to face him.

“Must have been seein' things,” he mumbled, trying not to laugh, “C'mere.”

Daryl led her a few feet away to a tree stump.

“Stand up on there,” he told her.

She gave him the cutest puzzled look, but did what he said.

“Daryl what the heck is goin' on?” she demanded.

He took the ring between his thumb and index finger, making sure the diamond was facing upwards. He turned his wrist over and held the ring out to her.

“Do you wanna?” he asked.

“Is this?” she started. She swayed on the tree stump. Her fingers plucked the ring from his, “Are you askin' me to...”

“Yeah,” he said quietly, “You wanna?”

“Hell yeah I do,” she smiled. She slipped the ring on her finger and held out her hand to admire it. She was doing a mixture of laughing and crying which mirrored how he was feeling inside.

He wrapped his arms around her thighs and lifted her down. Salty wet tears soaked his cheek as he held her against him.

The scene changed again and the salty wet drops were coming off the ocean instead of her face. He was holding her between his legs on a darkened beach.

This place was important too, another milestone for the two of them, and it was another point in time he kept coming back to in his thoughts. This was the place they had their first vacation and more importantly, this was the place that those words his tongue had been holding back for months finally escaped. This was the place that it was reaffirmed for him that he wasn't alone in his feelings, that she loved him too.

“Are ya glad we came back here?” he asked her.

“I am. I needed to see it up close again—with you.”

“It was worth a second look.”

_I was worth a second look to her._

His heart fluttered against his ribcage at the thought. The horizon line was glowing pink and orange. The waves were shimmering as the first light of day danced across them. He leaned forward against her back and squeezed her body. The ring shifted in his pocket and he felt that familiar anxiety. His mouth was dry. There was a lump in his throat.

The sun was peeking above the waterline now and he and Beth were turning to fire.

“Have you ever seen anythin' so beautiful?” she asked in that breathy awestruck way of hers.

His eyes had come to rest on her face where her cheeks were flushed pink and orange in the light and her eyelashes were outlined with the same fiery glow.

“Nah, never.”

Her cheek brushed against his as she turned to look at him, “Daryl, you're not even lookin'.”

“I am,” he said, not peeling his eyes off of her.

“Oh,” she breathed.

It was hard to tell with the strange lighting, but her cheeks seemed to be deepening in color and she turned back to the sea where the blood red disk was pulling itself over the waves. His fingers found the ring in the pocket of his vest and he brought it out. He held it between his thumb and index finger. He stretched his arm out over her shoulder and held the ring so it circled the sun. The light shimmered off the diamonds and sent a rainfall of light glittering over her face and chest.

Beth leaned forward slightly and her hand closed around his.

“Yes,” she said with the same simplicity in which they had said “I love you” for the first time.

As she readjusted herself between his legs, her hand gripped his thigh and he caught the glimmer of the ring out the corner of his eye. The sun was well above the horizon now and the intense orange glow had faded to a pale yellow light. Another day. Another beginning.

The room had grown cold and he supposed that's what woke him from his blissful dreams. Beth had rolled onto her side, facing the window. Her skin felt cold beneath his palm which was draped over her stomach. He scooted closer so his chest pressed against her back. He splayed his palm on the soft flesh beneath her ribcage. Even with five blankets piled on top of them it was still cold.

Beth rolled over and pressed against him like she was trying to melt into him. She shivered and her eyes blinked open.

“Daryl? What time is it?” she asked sleepily.

“Dunno. Maybe two or three hours before dawn.”

“It's freezin' in here.”

“Do ya want me to grab your clothes?”

“Jus' hold me,” she said, shaking her head.

Daryl pulled her as close to his chest as he could physically manage. Her breathing warmed the skin under his neck. His hands worked along her upper arm, kneading the flesh there. Her fingers lightly traced up and down his spine and eventually came to rest on his lower back.

She was still for a long time and he thought she must have fallen back to sleep, but suddenly her hand flex against his back and she mumbled, “Love you.”

“Love you too,” he said back, barely a whisper in her ear.

She didn't saying anything more and her fingers relaxed against his skin. Her side slowly rose and fell under his arm and he closed his eyes again and fell into a warm lull that was somewhere between waking and sleeping. He was still aware of Beth's warmth against him and aware of his own slow, deep breathing, but his mind was dreaming, showing him what he had wished for earlier—images of other lives where he and Beth existed in universes that were unaffected by the virus.

He was eight years old again, curled up with his back against a tree, a faded copy of “To Kill a Mockingbird,” that he had bought used for a dollar from the library, clutched in his small and dirty hands.

“What happens next, Daryl?” A little blonde girl was leaning against the tree next to him, squeezing a stuffed rabbit with a pink bow. Her cheek brushed against his as she tried to make sense of the words on the page. She must have been a few years younger than him, maybe six or seven.

He looked down at the book and continued to read to her. She stopped squirming next to him and settled with her head on his shoulder. She smelled clean—like lavender soap, but her face and arms were smudged with dirt from spending all day, every day out in the woods with him.

He finished the chapter and closed the book. The sky was darkening and soon the sun would set.

“Beth?”

She didn't answer. Her head was lolling on his shoulder and her little fingers were curled around the rabbit's arm. He carefully stood up and tucked the book into the hollow of the tree so his dad wouldn't find it. He called her name a few more times and she sleepily rubbed her eyes and stood up. He helped her brush the leaves off her jeans and sweater. He picked a few out of her hair which was cut into a cute little blonde bob that framed her pale round face and huge blue eyes.

“C'mon, hop up,” he said, leaning forward.

“A piggyback? Really?”

“Yeah, it's a serious piggyback. C'mon jump up.”

He caught her and wrapped his hands around her thighs as she jumped onto his back. Her arms tightened around his shoulders as he readjusted her weight. The stuffed bunny flopped against his chest as he walked. Her breath was warm and slow against his cheek.

“Do we have to go home?” she asked.

“Ya know we do,” he said sadly.

“I know _I_ have to, but your dad is so mean. Why don't you come to my house? My dad says ya can stay with us anytime.”

He smiled at that, but he knew it wasn't possible. Hershel had seen the bruises and scars. He understood what was happening to Daryl at home, but he couldn't protect him and Daryl would only get beat worse if his dad found out Hershel knew.

The stars were out overhead as he walked up the long gravel driveway to the farm. He had been working on teaching her the constellations, but so far she could only remember the big bear, Ursa Major. She pointed it out as he carried her.

The grass shone in blue-gray waves on either side of the driveway. The moon was bright and full and the white house was glowing like a beacon against the dark. Hershel was waiting on the porch for them, swaying back and forth in a rocking chair. He stood up when Daryl reached the steps to the porch and came down to meet them. He lifted the now sleeping Beth off Daryl's back and cradled her to his chest. It was such a strange thing to witness. Neither of Daryl's parents had ever held him in such a way.

“Thanks for taking such good care of my little girl,” Hershel said quietly.

“Ain't nothin',” Daryl mumbled, kicking a few stones with his worn out hiking boots.

“I can always count on ya to look after her and bring her home every night. I'm glad she has a friend like you.”

Daryl gave a nod as he watched the sleeping girl nuzzle her face against her father's chest. He turned to go, but Hershel put a hand on his shoulder.

“It's late. Are ya sure ya don't want to stay over? You're always welcome to the couch, ya know that right, son?” His eyes were filled with concern.

“Can't,” Daryl said nervously, tugging the sleeve of his t-shirt down over a fresh bruise on his upper arm.

Hershel nodded, “If ya ever need anything, day or night, don't hesitate to call us.”

“I won't,” Daryl said with a nod.

Hershel gave him one last long stare, before he turned and climbed the porch steps. He and Beth were silhouetted by the warm yellow light that was flooding out from the screen door. He felt a deep sadness, knowing that he couldn't follow them inside, curl up on the couch, warm, safe, loved.

Just as Hershel opened the door, Beth lifted her head and looked back at Daryl.

“Hey Daryl, you'll come play tomorrow, wontcha?” she asked.

“'Course, Beth. We'll finish that book,” he said, his heart lifting. He flashed her a quick smile and raised his hand to wave goodnight. She raised hers too and the stuffed rabbit wiggled as she waved. The door slammed shut as the two of them disappeared into the warmth of the light and Daryl turned to start the long, dark walk home, the promise of a tomorrow with her burning like a candle in his heart.

The scene faded and changed. He was older now, a few months shy of sixteen, a few months shy of moving out of his father's house. He was in a small grassy clearing, ringed on all sides with trees. He was struggling to load the crossbow—his first crossbow. His arms weren't quite strong enough yet, but they were close. He could load the bow, but he was slow at it.

Beth was lounging nearby in the grass, laying on her stomach. Her long blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail that brushed the back of her tiny pink tank top that just barely met the waistband of those short denim shorts. She had a dreamy look on her face. Her fingers were wrapped around a little black book of poems and every few minutes she would scribble something into the small notebook that lay open in front of her.

She had been trying to write songs lately and she was finding a lot of inspiration in poetry. She had even, very shyly, tested a few of her creations on Daryl. He'd come to see her one day after school and she'd appeared at the door with her guitar slung over her back and they'd walked far out into the woods, so deep no one would ever stumbled upon them. Beth sat down on a fallen tree and began to strum the guitar, something hopeful, something beautiful, something filled with nervous excitement and anticipation, something about first loves and new beginnings. Daryl hadn't been able to get that song out of his head ever since.

Beth looked up at Daryl from where she lay reading in the grass and the world lit up with a blinding flash. These days, that smile of hers could send his heart galloping like one of the horses they rode together on summer days. He had always loved her, but he had only very recently come to understand that he was _in love_ with her and just what that meant. He didn't know yet if that's how she felt about him. He returned the smile with an awkward one and turned back to his crossbow. He had it loaded now and he held it upright, aiming at a tree that he had carved an x into for target practice. He squeezed the trigger and the arrow missed the target, but not by that much. He swore under his breath.

“See? You're gettin' better,” she said confidently, “Will ya teach me someday?”

“You wanna try now? It's not that hard.”

She brushed the grass off her shorts as she stood up and joined him. He loaded up another arrow and then set the bow in her arms. He came up behind her to help her steady the bow and aim it. He leveled the bow with one arm and adjusted her posture with his other hand which rested on her chest, a few inches below her breasts. His palm was hot and sweaty against the thin fabric and he was sure he was going to leave a damp spot. He guided her finger to the trigger and they squeezed it together. The arrow hit just a little below the x.

“Pretty good for my first shot, huh?” she said lowering the crossbow.

“Not bad, Greene,” he agreed.

His hand quickly snapped to his side when he realized he was still holding her to his chest. She spun around to face him. His heart was thudding away in his chest. She stared at him with big blue eyes, eyes that had such a depth to them he could feel himself drowning the longer he stared. Her pale skin was starting to flush pink. The tip of his nose brushed hers. He could smell the cherry candy they had been eating earlier on her breath. He turned his head away and stared at the grass.

“We should head home. It'll be dark soon,” he said.

He really didn't want to go home, but Hershel would be pissed if Beth wasn't home by dark or shortly there after.

“Can we watch the sunset first?” she asked.

He nodded. It was damn near impossible to tell her no these days. Hell, it was always hard to tell her no. They sat side by side as the sun turned the grass into burning golden waves around them. He couldn't take his eyes off of her as the sun colored her pale skin mellow goldenrod to warm orange to burning red-pink to a soft peachy color and finally back to pale as the sky became indigo and the first stars appeared.

He climbed to his feet and offered her his hand. They started the long walk back through the forest that would eventually open up to the fields that stretched before her house. Somewhere along the way her fingers threaded through his. They had held hands before, but this time felt different. They didn't normally lace their fingers together like they were now and usually the hand holding had a purpose, to pull her to her feet, to help her cross a stream or climb over a fallen tree. This was just because. There was no rhyme or reason to it other than the pure happiness it was giving him and from the look on her face, she felt that happiness too.

Beth stopped walking when the treeline broke against her father's fields.

“What is it?” he asked.

“Jus' don't want my daddy and Maggie watchin',” she said, her eyes staring off in the distance where the farm house looked like a little white plastic toy.

“Watchin' what?”

“Watchin' this.”

Her hand cupped his jaw and she tilted it down. Her lips pressed against his and his heart fluttered against his ribs. He could taste the cherry candy on her lips as his tongue swept across her bottom lip. She opened her mouth for him and he very nervously slipped his tongue inside. Her tongue very nervously met his. They reluctantly broke apart after a few more minutes.

“That was my first kiss,” she said admitted shyly.

“Mine too.”

“Did we do it right?”

“Dunno. Guess so.”

She giggled and dropped her head against his shoulder. He held her and caressed her back with both hands.

“Can we do it again sometime?” she asked when she finally caught her breath.

“If ya want to,” he said, trying to make it seem like his stomach wasn't doing backflips.

“I do,” she told him, “Everyday.”

He nodded. That was fine by him--better than fine. Her hand found his again and he folded his fingers over hers. The stars blanketed the dark fields now and she pointed out the constellations he had taught her as they walked up to the house. He smiled to himself thinking of all those summer nights they spent out in this very field, lying on their backs, staring up, talking about everything from school, to his dad, to what books they were reading, to deep—well as deep as one can be at age fifteen—philosophical questions about life and the universe. They shared all their secrets and thoughts. She was his best friend and the one person he could always count on and he was hers.

Beth stopped him again when they reached the front porch. This was where they always said goodnight. Usually goodnight consisted of a hug and more recently a hug and a kiss on the cheek. The front door was open as it always was, and he could hear chatter and laughter coming from behind the screen. The Greene's were like his own family and tried their best to include him, but they were always careful how they went about it so his father wouldn't find out and beat him for it.

“Goodnight, Daryl.”

“Goodnight, Beth.”

She threw her arms around his neck and he wrapped his around her middle and they squeezed the fuck out of each other before slowly pulling apart. Her hands slid down his arms into his hands and she stood on tip-toe to give him a sweet little kiss on the mouth. She gave him a huge smile that drowned out the brilliance of the stars before bounding off up the steps and into the house, the screen door banging shut behind her.

The scene faded and changed once more. He was seated in a darkened auditorium. Hershel was to his right and Maggie was sitting to his left. He picked at the buttons on the suit jacket he was wearing and readjusted his tie which was growing uncomfortable. He wouldn't have to wait much longer. He could leave after she performed. These things always made him uncomfortable, but in their four years of college together, he had never missed one of her recitals that took place at the end of every semester and tonight was her final one so he sure as hell wasn't going to miss that.

She was always at the openings of exhibits his artwork was shown in. He had started out wanting to learn something technical, something useful, something that could help him work on motorcycles, a skill—welding, and that had turned into a whole other thing—sculpture and he found himself being accepted into the college's art school. This was fine by Daryl, because the art school was connected to the music school and they spent many a late night traipsing back and forth down the corridor between the studios and the practice rooms, watching each other work and kissing on their breaks.

Last week, she had been by his side during the opening of his senior show, standing amongst the twisted metal figures he had filled the gallery with, figures that were towering, heavy, broken. He had incorporated pieces of the dissected stuffed bunny rabbit that was Beth's at her request. At first it seemed like a whim, madness, but he came to realize that it was fittingly perfect—two opposites welded together, soft and rough, just like he and Beth.

The lights finally went up again over the stage and then dimmed to one spotlight over a shinny black piano. The flesh colored heels she wore clicked as she walked out from the side pocket wearing a navy blue dress that fell just above her knees. Her hair was brushed to one side and pulled over her left shoulder and she had curled the ends of it.

She sat down at the piano bench and began to play. Something sparkled on the ring finger of her left hand as her fingers danced across the keys. He felt his stomach do a backflip. He still couldn't believe she had said yes. They had talked about it for years and yet it still surprised him that she wanted to wear his ring, wanted to be his forever. That ring didn't come cheap either. He had saved for six months to be able to afford it. It was worth it though to see the look on her face and hear her say yes. He had asked her just before the opening of his exhibit. He was already anxious and wound up as hell so he figured why not? Beth couldn't stop smiling the rest of the night, no matter how dull the person she was talking with was and she had talked to every single person that came to his show. She was so much better at that kind of thing than he was.

Beth was singing and playing on the piano. All of the songs she would be singing for the concert he knew by heart because she had practiced them a thousand times in front of him. The last two songs she played were both songs she had written. It always made him feel shy whenever she sang them because both of them were about him and he felt like somehow the people in the audience around him would know and turn to stare at him.

The last few notes of the song echoed in the room as she stood up and took a graceful bow. The audience erupted in applause, but Daryl stood up and clapped louder than anyone—even Hershel and Maggie. Beth's eyes met his and he knew all she could see was him and that was fine with him because all he could see was her.

The dreams evaporated and he woke up with Beth curled against his chest. He could tell by her breathing that she was sleeping still. He kissed her forehead and closed his eyes once more. The first light of dawn was starting to filter through the boards and outside he could hear the sound of rain pelting the roof. He knew he should get up, but the warmth of her skin and the sound of her breathing mixed with the patter of the rain felt like heaven and only made his body sink further down into the mattress. It wasn't like they had anywhere to be. They didn't even really need to go on a hunt today. They could lay in bed all day reading and touching each other if they wanted—and that's exactly what they did.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally got around to playing "To the Moon" a few weeks before I started writing this story and I think it's influenced this story in a way. I wrote a lot of this chapter listening to the soundtrack for that game especially the song "Everything's Alright," by Laura Shigihara. I've written the last two chapters with lots of instrumental music playing in the background, specifically Dvorak's Romance for piano and violin, Op. 11, the "To the Moon" soundtrack, and the soundtrack from "The Place Promised in Our Early Days."


	34. Thirty Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update 4/8/2016: I apologize for taking so long to get this chapter out! I know it's been almost a month since the last chapter. I've been busy, distracted, stressed out and that's why it's taken me so long. Thank you for having patience and I hope you enjoy!

The night before New Year's Eve, Daryl found himself pacing back and forth on the cabin roof while Beth slept below in the bed. His fingers were shaking slightly as he brought the cigarette back up to his lips and inhaled. He could still taste her on his lips and smell her on his fingers from when he had gone down on her earlier that night. He took a long drag on the cigarette, inhaling more than just smoke. He pulled the cigarette back and licked his lips, getting a hint of the salty taste of her that lingered on his lips.

He'd been going down on her every night since his birthday and she fucking loved it, but she wanted more. They both did. There was no holding it back anymore. Everything was about to boil over. Their bodies had just about reached a breaking point. He just hoped she wouldn't be disappointed in him. At least he knew he could satisfy her one way.

The rain had finally stopped, but clouds still hung heavy above him, blocking out the stars. He hoped they'd clear up by tomorrow night because that was when he was going to ask her and he wanted everything to be perfect, even though he had a feeling it wouldn't be.

He still hadn't decided where he should do it. Up here on the roof? It was cold, but maybe he should take her to that meadow he'd chased her to that day she took off running with his crossbow bouncing against his back, the place where she kissed him for the first time, where she laid her head in his lap and he taught her some of the constellations.

The light from the fireplace trickled out onto the roof where he'd left the hatch open a bit. Inside, Beth was waiting for him, naked and asleep in the bed—their bed. Fuck, how he wished they could just stay here. He wasn't looking forward to sleeping on the hard, cold ground as they travelled north to—what? Maybe to nothing, nothing that would ever be as good as this place. He didn't have the same kind of hope she did. Maybe there was still a chance she would change her mind and decide that it was for the best that they just stay put and live out their lives here.

He put out what was left of his cigarette and tapped the snow of his boots before climbing back through the hatch. He stood at the foot of the bed, staring at her sleeping form as he undressed. Her hair was loose and fell across her pillow and the quilt. She was laying on top of the covers, halfway on her stomach. He laid down next to her wearing only his boxers and a t-shirt.

He ran his hand up over the back of her thigh and over her ass, tracing the curve of her spine up to her shoulder blades. Her eyes slowly opened and instantly drew him in. He was caught breathless by them and his hand froze where it rested on the back of her neck.

“What time is it?” she mumbled sleepily.

“Not morning yet,” he replied.

“Good,” she muttered, burying her face back into the pillow.

She went silent again. Her back slowly rose and fell, a calm quiet ebb beneath his hand.

“Beth?” he said barely above a whisper.

When she didn't respond again, he moved closer and draped his arm over her back. He closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her as the fireplace crackled behind him. This was some kind of pinnacle, the high point of his entire life, this moment, being with her, being warm, safe, plenty of food, everything in the palm of their hands. This was fucking heaven. He drifted back to sleep in some kind of near-perfect bliss.

Daryl found himself in his old bedroom in the house he rented with Merle. It was pitch black in his room because he'd been too lazy to change the lightbulb in the plastic fixture that hung from the ceiling above his bed. Moonlight poured in from the single poorly insulated window with chipped brown paint.

Daryl was frantically searching for something. He was tearing the room apart. The cigarette burn covered wolf blanket was wadded up next to the bed and his stack of CDs and DVDs had been reduced to a mound on the floor that every few seconds he'd rearranged to make sure what he was looking for was not underneath.

_Where the fuck is it?_

Daryl dumped out a jar that was filled with change, plastic lighters, and other assorted junk, but it wasn't there either. He scraped the contents back into the jar threw it at the wall in a rage. Change jingled as it rained down next to the window. He tore every single drawer out of the crooked pine dresser, tossing jeans and flannel shirts over his shoulder. He double checked the hidden compartment in the top middle drawer—the place he hid stuff from Merle, but it wasn't there either. He growled and slammed his fist down on the top of the dresser causing a small silver picture frame to fall forward.

He sat it upright and stared at it for a second. Beth had given it to him for his birthday. The image inside the frame showed the two of them on his new motorcycle about to take off. Maggie had taken the picture when he came to pick up Beth. Beth was grinning towards Maggie, her hair peeking out from an under the silver helmet, tight leather clinging to her slender arms. He had gotten her that jacket for her birthday. He knew she'd look damn good in it both on and off his bike. His head was tilted over his shoulder, looking back at her, a small smile on his lips, giving her a lovesick gaze because he couldn't believe how lucky he was to have her on the back of his bike.

He had bought her something else to go with the leather jacket, just a week ago, and now he couldn't fucking find it. It was pissing him off. He saved up for half a fucking year to be able to afford it.

He'd turned his room upside down searching for it, but it was no where to be found. The last time he'd seen it was last night. He had gotten drunk with Merle—really drunk, so drunk he didn't remember lying down on his bed and passing out in his clothes. He was planning on asking Beth tonight and he was trying to get up the courage or at least lessen his anxiety. He vaguely recalled turning over the ring in his hand as it doubled and tripled with his blurred vision, sparkling and flickering with an electricity like the heart of a dying star, an ending and a beginning tangled together.

“Redecoratin', baby brother?” Merle laughed from the doorway. Pale yellow light flooded across the stained gray carpet as he pushed the door open wide.

“You,” Daryl growled as he noticed the belt wrapped around Merle's upper arm, “Thought ya said you didn't have money left to buy dope until Friday?”

“I pawned some useless shit,” Merle laughed.

“What useless shit? Ya ain't have anything left. Ya better not have pawned _my_ shit,” Daryl yelled.

“Hey, hey, calm down. You want some?” he asked, pulling a baggie out of the pocket of his vest and waving it at Daryl.

“You know I don't do that shit anymore.”

“C'mon, it's good shit. It'll make ya feel better. Highest quality.”

“What did you sell that was mine?” Daryl demanded.

“Don't worry about it. Ain't nothin' ya needed.”

“I swear to christ if you sold Beth's ring, I'll fuckin' kill ya!”

He grabbed Merle by the collar of his shirt and shook him. Merle turned his head and took a swig of the whisky he held in his other hand.

“You did, didn't ya, ya fuckin' bastard!” Daryl spat when Merle didn't say anything. Daryl couldn't even pretend to be surprised. His brother had been doing shit like this to him his whole life. Sometimes he wondered if Merle even cared about him at all. Every time he did something like this, it felt like a knife in Daryl's stomach.

“You should be thankin' me, little brother. Did ya a favor.”

“Where'd ya pawn it?”

He reached around Merle and pulled his wallet out of his back pocket.

“Ain't matter. I already spent the money. You don't need it anyway. We both know that bitch is gonna say no.”

“She's not a bitch. Don't you ever fuckin' say that again.”

Merle just laughed and took another drink of whisky.

“Too good for ya. Always was,” Merle muttered under his breath.

Daryl shoved him into the wall and threw the wallet in his face. His hands were shaking as he ran them through his hair, pacing back and forth, trying to figure out what the hell he was going to do. He had next to nothing in his bank account. Everything he had, he'd spent on that ring.

“How could you do this to me? How?” Daryl yelled, his voice cracking.

“Only tryin' to stop you from makin' a fool of yourself.”

“You're gonna fix this. I don't give a fuck how.”

“Ain't my problem. I told ya you shoulda never got involved with her.”

“I love her!”

“You don't love her. Love's for pussies and little girls.”

“You're gonna tell me where ya pawned that ring and you're gonna fucking help me get it back.”

“Whoa, whoa, why don't you sit down? Have some of this and we'll figure somethin' out,” Merle waved the bag at him again.

“I told ya, I'm not doin' that shit.”

“You're all worked up, Darylina. This will get your head cleared so we can fix this.”

Daryl slumped onto the bed. He felt the mattress sink as Merle sat down next to him. Merle's belt tightened around his upper arm and he winced. He heard the _tap, tap, tap_ of the syringe and his heart sped up and he was filled with terror and anticipation all at once. It had been years since his last hit. He didn't want to go down that rabbit hole again and yet he did because he knew how fucking good it would feel.

“Ahhh,” he groaned as the needle pierced his skin, a sweet little love-bite almost as good as all the ones she'd given him.

Panic and paranoia shot through him for a second. Beth knew about his drug use, but she was probably going to be disappointed and god knows what she would do if he became addicted again, god knows what _he_ would do if he became addicted again. He would have no choice but to leave her. She deserved better than an addict.

_Fuck._

His blood was being sucked back into the syringe mixing with the smack. Cherry-red like her lips.

_Shit._

A dizzy rush overcame him as Merle pulled the needle away.

“Good shit huh?” Merle asked.

“Better than sex,” he muttered.

“Even better than sex with your pretty little blonde farm girl?”

Shame crept in, poisoning the rush of giddiness. He still hadn't slept with her. He wanted to, but...but what? Fuck if he knew.

“She ain't even let you have a test drive and you were about to ask her to marry you? I saved you from makin' a big mistake.”

Daryl fell back onto the bed. Images of Beth drifted across his mind. He could see her, a yellow silhouette against a yellow field in front of a yellow sunrise. All he wanted to do was touch her, hold her, feel his hands tangle in her hair as he laid her down in the dry grass.

_This is heaven. She's heaven. Fuck._

He tried to stand up, but his legs were like lead. He wanted to leave and find Beth, bring her back here, take off her clothes and lie naked with her under the threadbare wolf blanket. God that would be fucking amazing—just holding her while he tripped, every skin-to-skin touch a mini orgasm gushing across his flesh. Maybe she could have a little a too, just so she could have a taste, share in this orgasmic experience. She would love it even more than she loved the moonshine or the cigarettes they had shared. A little wouldn't hurt, just one time would be alright.

_Fuck. No. What am I thinkin'?_

The world flickered in and out of his vision as his mind drifted in and out of consciousness. Everything seemed far away--to far away to matter or mean anything.

“What time 's it?” he muttered to Merle.

“Late, why? Ya got somewhere you're supposed to be?”

_Shit. Shit. Shit. How much time had passed?_

He glanced out the window. It was even darker now and the moonlight was gone. He was supposed to get dinner with Beth tonight. He was supposed to be giving her that ring right now. His phone was buzzing on the bed next to him. Three missed calls and a text that said, “Hey, I'm outside.”

Daryl was finally able to sit up. He stumbled down the dark hallway. Merle's belt was still wrapped around his arm. He ripped it off and threw it across the living room before pulling open the door.

Beth stood on the porch, shivering in a pink sundress. Her make up was all done up and she had hot pink lips tonight. Her mascara was smudged slightly and he guessed she'd been crying. His stomach dropped.

“Beth, I'm sorry,” he started, reaching for an excuse, but fuck, he didn't want to lie to her, “Merle wanted me to get high with him. I didn't want to, but...” he trailed off and rubbed the spot on his arm where the needle had pierced him.

“Oh,” she said flatly. Hurt was spilling across her face, carried by the inky trails of mascara.

“Come inside. It's freezin' out here,” Daryl said quietly.

“Close that damn door! You're lettin' all the heat out!” Merle yelled from the hallway.

Daryl wrapped an arm protectively around Beth's shoulders and ushered her down the wood paneled hall. Merle blocked their way.

“Well ain't ya gonna say hello, little Miss Queen of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee?” Merle shot at Beth.

“Hi,” she said, her voice oozing with disgust.

“C'mon now, girlie, that ain't no way to speak to your ol' future brother-in-law, Merle,” he chuckled.

Daryl raised his middle finger to his brother, before guiding Beth through the door of his room and slamming it shut in Merle's face.

“Beth, I'm sorry,” he mumbled again.

“Why does he hate me so much?” she asked.

“He hates everyone,” Daryl answered.

“What did he mean “brother-in-law”?”

Daryl cleared his throat. His hands closed around hers and he pulled her to the bed. His head was still spinning a little and he still felt the warm pulse of the heroin with every breath. He sucked in a big gulp of air and let out a shuddering breath.

“I bought you a ring, but Merle pawned it to buy drugs,” he told her. He held his breath again waiting for her response.

“Oh,” she said. Her hands suddenly felt hot and sweaty in his. Either that or his were sweating worse than he thought, “I was gonna ask if you'd marry me.”

His stomach turned over and for a minute he thought he was going to vomit.

“Yes,” she said.

“Yes? But I ain't got the ring anymore.”

No, this couldn't be happening. This had to be some kind of heroin induced hallucination. He shook his head in disbelief. She nodded again, a grin spreading across her face. He threw his arms around her and buried his face in her neck. He sank back into the mattress, dragging her with him.

“I'm gonna get that ring back. I swear. I don't care what I have to do,” he promised sleepily.

“I know ya will,” she said nuzzling her face under his chin.

“So you really want to?” he asked again, just to be sure.

“Of course I do. I love you.”

His eyes closed. He could barely make out her saying something else, something about Maggie and shopping for wedding dresses. He was drifting off to another world that was just him and Beth, bright sunlight and waves of green grass shivering in a summer breeze as birds darted overhead.

“Beth,” he mumbled some time later.

He'd come down from the high and the world now felt like it was made of lead and concrete—heavy and cold. Beth was no longer in the bed next to him. He slowly stood up on wobbly legs and called for her again, but there was no answer. He pushed the door open and peered into the hallway. It was pitch black and nothing stirred. He dragged his hands along the wall, feeling his way to the living room. He choked back vomit as the smell of rotting flesh settled in his nose and crept down his throat, licking at the back of his tongue.

The hallway opened up to their cluttered living room. Merle was bent over in front of the green sofa they had picked up from the curb before the trash man got to it. Pale slender legs lay parallel to the couch. Sickly chewing and sucking noises made the vomit he'd been pushing down rush up. He turned and threw up on Merle's recliner.

_Fucking bastard deserves it after what he did._

“Beth?” Daryl called.

One of her legs gave an involuntary twitch. As he walked around Merle, he saw that her arm was stretched out towards to him. Merle's belt was tightened around her upper arm, a black leather snake threatening to squeeze the life out of her. A needle was poking out of her arm. Red blood filled the syringe and a little trickled down over her elbow. He traced her blue-tinged arm up to her shoulder and neck to where her eyes were closed.

“What the hell you do to her?” Daryl growled.

Merle slowly turned to face him. His eyes glowed with a cold blue light. His mouth and hands were stained with blood. He grinned showing bits of pale flesh between his teeth. The chunk of meat he was holding dropped to the floor with a sickly splat.

“I didn't do nothin',” Merle promised, “I told ya she didn't wanna be with ya.”

Daryl fell to his knees next to her. He pulled the needle away and unwrapped the belt. He scooped up her lifeless body in his arms. Her skin was cool to the touch and she wasn't breathing. Merle just looked at him and laughed.

"You're pathetic and weak. Look what she's done to you," Merle told him.

Daryl opened his eyes. Cold December sunlight was filtering in through the cracks between the boards. His t-shirt was soaked with sweat and he felt nauseous. He rolled over to put his arm around Beth and cuddle with her like he did every morning, but the bed was empty. Panic and adrenaline pumped through his veins as the muscles around his stomach tightened, worsening the sick feeling he had. He sat up and swept the room with his eyes. She wasn't on the couch or over by the wood stove heating up breakfast. He threw his legs over the side of the bed and stepped into his pants and boots. The boards creaked as he strode across the room to the bathroom. The door was flung open wide and there was no sign of Beth.

“Beth?” he called out. He threw on his jacket and vest and climbed the ladder to the loft.

She wasn't up there either. He stepped through the hatch onto the roof. Blinding sunlight bounced off the thin layer of snow and made him throw his hand up to shield his eyes. No Beth in sight, but he could tell by the prints in the snow she had been up here recently. He followed her tracks around to the balcony on the back of the house where they stopped at the railing. The snow had been brushed away where she'd draped an old plastic folding fire escape ladder over the boards.

_Shit. What the fuck was she thinkin' going off without even tellin' me?_

His skin went cold. Maybe she decided she didn't want to be with him anymore and had run away. His hands shook as he descended the ladder. He took off following her tracks around the side of the cabin and into the trees to the north. He didn't realize until he stumbled into a walker that he'd forgotten to bring his crossbow. He kicked the walker in the middle of its chest, knocking it to the wet snow where he dispatched it with one good hard stomp of his boot.

The frigid air stung his face. His hair was damp with sweat. He felt like he was on the verge of hyperventilating, all of it mixed with panic and a bit of anger too—anger at himself for not hearing her get up, anger at himself for being too comfortable.

A little further ahead, black blood dotted the ground, trailing through the trees. A dead walker was lying on its back, its frosty skin glistening in the sun.

_I can take care of myself._

She could and he was proud of her. Proud of how strong she had become and brave—no she was always brave, maybe even braver than he was.

Daryl lifted the walker's head and saw the bloody gash made by Beth's knife. She must have killed it from behind and rolled it over after it fell dead, but why?

Beth's footprints had circled around the walker before she continued on. Daryl found himself again wondering why. He didn't have to go much further to find her. He reached the edge of the treeline where the forest opened up into a meadow—the one they shared their first kiss in. A warm rush moved through his veins as he thought about it and he let out a breath which turned to mist.

Beth was nearly in the middle of the field. She had his crossbow in her arms, holding it as lovingly as she held Judith. Her arms could support its weight now without any problem. She was strong. He felt a deep pride knowing that he had helped her become that way. He had been her teacher and she had been his in other ways.

He could tell that her muscles were tense with anticipation. He could smell it, taste it, feel it, sense it. He knew _her_. He knew her body and was growing to know that body more every night and soon he'd know it fully and she'd know his the same. Even though it wouldn't be his first time when they had sex, it was going to be something new, something good and he was both terrified and aching with longing and anticipation at the same time. He just wanted to wait a little longer—just until after he gave her the ring, as if the fact that they were engaged or married would make it right for him to have sex with her. God, Merle would have never let him hear the end of it if he had ever dared say such a thing aloud.

Daryl stayed back in the treeline, just watching her, admiring the way she stood, the way she held the bow, the way the muscles in her body tightened, stretched and twitched at every little movement that was happening around her. He felt her draw in a breath as her finger moved to the trigger. Her arrow flew through the trees and something grunted as the arrow struck it. She lowered the bow and slid it quietly over her shoulder, before slinking through the tall grass to collect her kill. Daryl followed just as quietly behind her, not sure how to make his presence known. He didn't want to startle her, but he wanted to be with her, be present in the moment with her.

He caught up with her and fell into step with her. She kept her head pointed straight ahead, but her eyes darted over at him and the corners of her lips turned upwards into a little smile. Her hand slipped into his and it felt as warm as the sun. He closed his fingers over the top of hers and inhaled deeply as if he could somehow breathe in the warm feeling given by the brush of her skin against his.

He realized he was letting her lead him and she was following a blood trail on the ground that was left behind by whatever she shot. A buck was laying in the leaves up ahead. Steam rose from the blood trickling from the wound on its neck where her arrow had pierced it. He shivered remembering the dream he once had where he had shot Beth in the same spot with his arrow. Beth's hand snapped out of his and she rushed forward and dropped to the ground next to it.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered to the deer before pulling out the arrow and wiping it on her jeans.

Daryl knelt next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Sorry I left without sayin' anything,” she said.

“Scared the shit outta me,” he mumbled, squishing her against his side, “Don't ever do that again, please,” he added, his voice cracking.

“I jus' wanted to do something to surprise you, maybe get us somethin' good to eat for our New Year's Eve dinner,” she said.

“And ya did. You track it yourself?”

“Didn't see anyone else out there with me did ya?” she teased.

He shook his head, “Nah, but I saw ya killed a walker back there. What were ya doin' with it? I saw ya must have rolled it onto its back and your footprints were all around it.”

“Can't tell ya,” she said quickly.

“Why not?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.

“You'll jus' have to trust me. You'll see later.”

Daryl peered into her face, trying to read her, but she was doing really well at concealing whatever it was. He shook it off and glanced back down at the deer.

“Looks like we're gonna have enough meat to get us through the rest of the winter if we can it all,” he told her.

“I did real good, huh?” she said cockily.

“Hmpf, ya still gotta gut it.”

He helped her gut it, skin it, and hang it so the blood could drain. They sat in sun-drenched grass as they waited until it was ready to be dragged back to the cabin, butchered, and cooked.

The little bit of snow was melting around them, dripping from the tree branches. Beth sat humming next to him, twisting a few blades of grass in her blood-stained hand. A lump formed in his throat at the thought of what he was going to ask her later tonight. He carefully studied her face—the little upward curve of her lips, the roundness of her cheeks, and the softness of her lashes as they brushed against her skin—trying to read her, trying to guess if she would say yes.

_'Course she'll say yes. Not like she has any other options._

He could hear Merle laughing in his head and he felt his stomach sink.

“Saw a lot of tracks this mornin',” she said, shaking him out of his thoughts.

“Hmm?”

“Deer. Looks like there's a few in the area.”

“Probably cause there hasn't been many walkers lately. If there's even two or three around here might be enough to keep us fed for half a year or longer.”

She turned to look him, her face all full of determination and stubbornness.

“But Daryl, we're leavin' in two months and we can't bring all that with us.”

“Maybe we don't have to leave,” he muttered, shooting her a sideways glance.

Her brow furrowed and she shook her head.

“We have to. Rick and Maggie are out there. We won't find them unless we leave—unless we try.”

“We still might not find them. One of us might die. Both of us might die.”

“We might not. We made it this far together. We're still gonna die if we stay here.”

“Just thought we could postpone it for awhile longer.”

The grass she was twisting snapped off in her hands. He sighed. Somewhere in the distance a bird gave an agitated little shriek as branches crunched and shuddered. Daryl reached for his crossbow where it lay in the grass next to him. They both stilled, held their breath, waiting. A sudden breeze made the grass shudder. The bird cried out again. Daryl raised the bow looking down the scope as he swept it back and forth along the treeline. Nothing. Together they exhaled. Must have been a hawk or something, Daryl decided.

They didn't speak further about leaving the cabin. Together, they managed to drag the deer back, butcher it and get it cooking. Beth had asked him to bring down the box of photo albums from the attic and she was leafing through them on the couch while Daryl kept an eye on the meat. She kept looking up to smile at him and he could tell she was wordlessly inviting him to come join her, but he couldn't. He felt like he was on the verge of a panic attack and thought of looking at wedding photos was too much. He spent the rest of the afternoon going back and forth between the porch and the stove. He emptied half a pack of cigarettes in an attempt to soothe his nerves.

The cabin was awash with heat and they were both covered in sweat by the time the last of the deer meat had been cooked and canned. They took the small platter's worth they had set aside, along with the last jar of spiced apples, and a jar of moonshine out onto the roof. The sky was clear tonight and stars spilled overhead, tiny little holes punched in pitch black curtain lending their alien light to the last two people on Earth.

Beth had changed into a pair of tight fitting black jeans and a creamy white sweater before they came up. Daryl had changed too into the dark colored jeans that were just starting to get the tiniest hole in the knee and he had put on dark gray button down shirt and a black vest that was identical to the gray one he'd worn when they ate the turkey on the roof. He tried to put on the only tie in the wardrobe—a plain black one, but hell if he knew how to tie it. Daryl had one tie before the turn and it was one of those zip up ones that required next to no effort to wear. Merle had a few “real” ties and knew how to tie them. Daryl wished he would have asked his brother to show him how when he was still alive. As much as the old bastard pissed him off, he still missed him something terrible.

Most of the snow had melted off during the day, but the boards were soaked so they had to sit on the tarp. They had also brought out a blanket for when the relief of being out of the hot room below wore off and they found themselves shivering and pressing against each other for warmth.

_I'll keep ya warm._

The meat was tender and delicious, so much better than the canned veggies they'd mostly been living off of. Daryl watched her closely as she chewed on a piece thoughtfully.

“Ya like it?” he asked.

She nodded and licked her fingers clean one at a time--a habit he couldn't help but notice she'd picked up from him, “Tastes even better knowin' that I'm the one that shot it.”

“And gutted it. And butchered it,” he added.

“I did pretty good, didn't I, Mr. Dixon?” she teased.

“Ya did,” he started, “Mrs. Dixon,” he added at the end, feeling his stomach dip like he was falling.

_What am I your wife now?_

She had said that once, weeks ago, maybe months ago, before they went on their road trip to the ocean, before he kissed her up here under the stars.

His palm began to sweat around the plate he was holding as he waited for her to say something, his eyes darting nervously around her face. It was hard to tell in the candlelight, but it looked like her face was turning pink. He need to get up, move around. His heart was going too fast to be sitting still and his body was itching to correct this.

“C'mon, let's go for a walk,” Daryl said climbing to his feet. He tucked the jar of moonshine into the pocket of his jacket and threw the blanket over his shoulder.

“But why? It's dark. Shouldn't we just stay up here?”

“Nah, we'll be fine. C'mon,” he promised, offering her his hand and pulling her to her feet.

He climbed down the ladder first and once again offered her his hand when she reached the bottom. He didn't let go after she had stepped down from the last rung. He'd never let go again if it was up to him. He took her in the direction she had gone that morning—north through the trees, heading for the field.

The sun had melted the thin layer of snow that had fallen over the last few days, but after it set the world became coated in frost. Everything around them from the leaves beneath their boots to the branches that scraped at the icy black sky, glistened and sparkled in the moonlight like the tiny stones that were cemented into the band of the ring that shifted back and forth in the pocket of his vest. The crystals of ice crunched under their feet—the only sound in the world and with every step his heartbeat was ramping up. Every step was bringing him closer to the place where he'd have to turn and face her and hope his mouth and his brain would produce a coherent string of words that would make her understand just what his heart felt.

Beth stopped walking and stood perfectly still. Her breath misted as it rolled out.

“It's so quiet,” she said in a hushed voice, “It's like we're the only two people in the world.”

She closed her eyes and he did the same. He could feel her pulse beneath the warm smooth surface of her palm. He could hear her breathing and after a few minutes, his had changed to match hers perfectly. The wind stirred a few dead leaves that still clung high in the branches above them. Water trickled over rocks in the bed of a stream and somewhere in the distance he thought heard the flutter of an owl's wings.

Her pulse was moving faster now beneath her skin. He could sense her muscles shifting and tightening. She was going to run. He could all but smell it, but before he could tighten his grip on her hand, it snapped free of his and the quiet song of nature was marred by her footfalls on the ice-crusted leaves as she shot off towards the meadow.

The cold air burned his throat and stung his nose as he ran after her. Her blonde ponytail bounced behind her, a light in the darkness, just like that night she had run after they burned the moonshine shack. Just like that night, she was once again outpacing him—by a lot. His lungs heaved, the muscles in his thighs ached and the joints in his knees creaked.

_Maybe she's not really that fast. Maybe I'm jus' gettin' old._

The thought slowed his steps even further and soon he was barely moving at a jog. Sweat dripped from his hair. He pushed on because he wouldn't lose her. He couldn't. He reached the treeline and froze. She was standing amongst the tall grass with her back to him like she had the day of their first kiss.

His heart was racing and it was from more than just chasing her. He hung back, his fingernails digging into the bark of the tree he was standing partially behind. She turned her head slightly and he could see the outline of her profile. Her eyes were cast down to where her fingers played with a strand of grass.

_Come out, I know you're there._

He couldn't tell if she had said it or if he thought it. The muscles in his body loosened and he stalked through the grass quietly like a cat sneaking up on its prey. He sucked in a breath and threw his arms around her, pinning her arms to her sides. She struggled against him as he lifted her a few inches off the ground.

“Caught ya,” he growled in her ear, his voice heavy and gravelly. He set her down but kept his arms around her.

“Maybe I let ya,” she whispered in that deep, throaty, sexual way of hers.

His arms loosened around her and he dug in his pocket until the cold metal kissed his fingertips. He took it out and kept it hidden in his fist. She turned around slowly. She was smiling and it was like looking into the sun. Doubt trembled through him. His mind went blank. His lips moved wordlessly as his tongue tried to recall the movements necessary to speak, to form words.

“Beth,” he managed to spit out, “Maybe ya won't run again. Not from me.”

Her brow furrowed slightly and she tilted her head in confusion. God, he must sound like a fucking idiot.

“What are you tryin' to say?” she asked.

His fingers were sweating so much around the ring he was terrified it would slip out of them and be lost in the grass. He countered the slickness by tightening his grip on it until his knuckles turned white. She was watching him intently. Her eyes drifted down his chest to where his fist was closed tightly around the ring.

“What are you hiding?” she asked.

_Just show it to her. Open your fucking hand and let her see._

“N-nothin'” he lied. The shame of failure crept over him. He stared at his feet.

_Such a fuckin' pussy. Always were. Still are. Can't do anythin' right._

Her fingers danced over his closed fist as if they were trying to x-ray what was concealed by the layers of skin, bone, muscle, and veins. His stomach sank as she scrunched up her brow and her lips tightened into a frown. He could tell she knew he was lying, but she didn't know how to, or maybe she just didn't want to, call him out on it.

At this point, the moment had been so utterly destroyed that he just wanted her to look away for a few seconds so he could slip the ring back into his pocket. She deserved better than this half-assed proposal in the middle of a dark field. He didn't even know why he thought this was a good idea in the first place.

_She'll say no._

A small part of him still believed that once they found their group or another group, that she'd eventually forget about him and leave him for someone younger, unscarred, someone who didn't have the same hangups about sex that he had. He hadn't felt this ashamed in a long time. His shoulders slumped forward. His legs felt like they were made of wood and his joints creaked as he swayed on his feet. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the jar of moonshine. At the same time he managed to tuck the ring away in the inner pocket of his jacket.

“Is that why ya brought us out here?” she asked, still frowning. She nodded at the moonshine jar.

He wasn't sure what to say. He'd already lied to her once, but telling her would only botch the proposal further. Maybe if he got some liquor into him, he'd be able to get up the courage to ask her. He could always drink himself to death if she said no.

“Jus' needed to stretch my legs is all,” he muttered. Feeling horribly guilty for lying to her a second time. He tried to justify it in his mind, that it'd be worth it in the end, but he didn't feel at all convinced.

“Oh,” she said disappointedly.

He laid out the blanket and sat down on it, laying his crossbow at arm's reach just off the edge of it. They hadn't seen any walkers on their way here, but every now and then he'd hear a twig snap or a branch shudder as a wave of birds were sent fluttering by—something. Daryl wasn't sure what. Could be a walker, could be a person, could just be a raccoon. He twisted off the cap and took a long swig, gulping it down quick and feeling it settle in his stomach. He let out a sigh as the liquor left a burning trail up the back of his throat and began to coat his brain in a warm layer of butter.

“Want some?” he offered, holding the jar out towards her.

“Well, it is New Year's Eve, might as well celebrate,” she said with a little shrug. Her small fingers were too tiny to even come close to wrapping around the jar as he passed it to her.

She tipped it up to her lips which were covered again tonight in that red lipstick she'd picked up on one of their runs. He'd noticed it the second she came out of the small bathroom dressed in her "nice" clothes, as nice as clothes could be in the middle of the goddamned apocalypse. Red looked good on her. It suited her and it made him feel a little queasy--in a good way, to know that she had put it on for him, to impress _him_. When she pulled the jar away and passed it back to him, there was a red print where her lips had touched it. He took another drink, not before lining his own mouth up with her lipstick mark. His tongue came out and tentatively poked the smudge, tasting her along with the moonshine.

“Wonder what time it is,” she mused, before taking another sip.

“Dunno,” he mumbled and he wondered if it really mattered in the grand scheme of things.

“Do you think it's midnight yet?”

He found the North Star and the Big Dipper and tried to remember the little trick for telling time that Merle had shown him when they were kids, but he couldn't quite remember the math for it and he wasn't sure of the exact date which was needed for the equation to work properly.

“I think it's close. Maybe ten or eleven o'clock,” he decided based on the half-assed equation he'd just done in his head.

“Every year, I'd try to stay up with Maggie and Shawn on New Year's Eve, but I almost always fell asleep. They'd wake me up a few minutes before midnight and we'd all run outside banging pots and pans together and yelling. That was our tradition.”

“Midnight's not _that_ late,” he teased her. He smiled though thinking of little Beth Greene trying so hard to stay awake and ultimately ending up curled up, sound asleep on the little floral couch in the farmhouse living room.

“What about you? Did you stay up every year?”

“Nah,” he admitted, “Usually passed out well before then. Merle would get the drinkin' goin' around noon.”

“So you couldn't stay up until midnight either,” she said, grinning.

He guessed the moonshine was starting to take hold of her. He was starting to feel it himself. He took another big swig and passed it back to her. Yes, he'd get them both drunk and then ask. That seemed like the best way to go about this now and maybe the only way.

“Do you think it's almost midnight now?” she giggled.

“Damn girl, you jus' asked that ten minutes ago.”

“How are we gonna know?”

“We won't. Midnight can be now, if ya want to be.”

He heard the growl in his voice as he said it and knew that she heard it too by the way she was staring at him, her face turning pink, her lips slightly parted. Her eyelashes fluttered as she leaned in close enough for him to smell the alcohol on her breath.

“Yeah. I think I want it to,” she said, her lips ghosting against his as she spoke.

His whole body shivered in anticipation. Electricity crackled between them and it was too much. He wanted to run from it, but instead he covered her mouth with his and it grew more intense still until it exploded somewhere in his chest and he was falling onto the blanket, pushing her beneath him.

“Then it is,” he panted, tearing himself away from her, “Happy New Year, sweetheart.”

Her fingers pressed into the back of his neck again as she pulled him to her lips again. The ring shifted forward and tumbled out of his pocket, landing on her chest just above her breasts.

_Shit._

She hummed against his lips and her hand shifted from the back of his neck. He grabbed it and pinned it to the blanket. He kissed her harder, forcing his tongue into her mouth as he subtly ran his hand up her side, over her stomach and between her breasts, his fingers searching for that little hint of metal. Her other hand fell from his neck and landed on top of the one he had on her chest.

_Fuck._

His finger dipped into the center of the ring and he curled it back against his palm. Her fingers were still wrapped tightly around his wrist. She broke the kiss. Her eyes were downcast, staring at his fist.

“What on earth have you been hidin' all night?” she asked, pawing at his closed hand.

He rolled off her and sat up next to her. He reached for the moonshine and took another long drink. He knew he should slow down. He was reaching the point where his head was beginning to spin, but his confidence was skyrocketing, up and up. Still, something held him back—fear that he was going to fuck this up, fear that this was going to be far from perfect and she would be disappointed.

“I never gave ya all your Christmas presents. There's still one left,” he mumbled.

All his confidence suddenly drained all at once leaving him cold, damp with sweat, and flushed with anxiety.

“Oh?” Her eyes widened and she looked as terrified as he felt. They were in this together, he decided and it eased the knots in his stomach.

He held out his fist. Her hands came up on either side of it and she turned it over. His palms were sweating and hot and his knuckles were white again around the ring. His heart was racing so fast and the alcohol was making his head feel like he was on a damn roller coaster and he didn't know which way was up and which was down. He didn't know if he could actually do it, if he could actually open his hand. Her fingers lightly stroked his fingers and he felt them relax and slowly the muscle and veins unknotted and his hand fell open exposing the little glimmering piece of metal in the center of his sweaty, grease-stained palm. He stared down at it. It winked up at him, probably the most expensive object he'd ever touched in his life. He was terrified to lift up his eyes and look at her, to see the clues written in the lines of her face and know how she felt.

“Got somethin' for you too,” she said finally, making him jump.

She raised her fist so it was level with his and turned it over. Her knuckles were just as white as his were. She opened her fist slowly, revealing a plain silver band. Daryl stared at it in disbelief. His brain was racing with questions. The grass was rising and falling around the two of them in blue green waves as if it was breathing with them.

“When?” he mumbled.

Had she gotten it when they were on their little vacation? Did she have it as long as long as he had her ring?

“You were talkin' in your sleep this mornin',” she said.

_Again?_

“What was I sayin'?” he asked.

“Do you remember what you were dreamin'?”

He nodded, “You. This.” He held the ring between his thumb and index finger.

“Did I say yes?”

He looked down again.

“Yeah, but it wasn't right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Merle pawned your ring to buy drugs. Didn't have the money to get it back. Didn't have nothin' to give ya. Wasn't right.”

“You've been thinkin' about this for awhile, haven't you?”

“How'd ya know?”

“I know _you_ , Daryl,” she said.

A wave of deja vu suddenly threatened to crush him.

“Hmpf. Guess ya do.”

“I felt it in your pocket that night we got back from the church. I had an idea what it was then and when I heard you talkin' in your sleep, I knew I was right and I figured I should get you one too. So we can both have one for when we leave the cabin, for when we meet up with people again.”

“So you wanna?”

“Hell yeah I do.”

She held out her hand for him and he slipped the ring down over her finger, holding his breath and hoping it would fit. He held out his hand for her next and she carefully slid the silver band over it.

“Are we now?” he asked.

She shook her head, “Not yet.”

She leaned forward and kissed him.

“Now we are.”

They sat in silence for a bit just passing the jar of moonshine back and forth. He was riding a high between having successfully given her the ring and from the booze and his confidence was soaring again so he decided to press his luck with another matter.

“Jus' listen,” he said.

The world was still around them. Nothing moved. Nothing crashed through the underbrush or fluttered through the dark branches. They were safe here. This place was different—special.

“What? I don't—“ she started. He covered her mouth with his hand.

“Shhh.”

He held her between his legs with her back pressed to his chest. Beneath his arms, her chest rose and fell and her breath was the only sound. Slowly he released her.

“It's so quiet. Peaceful,” she said just above a whisper.

“It is. It's perfect here. It's a shame we're leavin' in a few months.”

“Yeah it is. This is place is different. It's like some kind of paradise.”

“We could stay,” he offered, a hint of pleading in his voice.

“We can't.”

“We can. We could.”

“But what's gonna happen when one of us dies?”

“That ain't gonna happen for a long time.”

“It's still gonna happen.”

“We got plenty of time to figure it out.”

“I dunno,” she mumbled. She tipped the moonshine up to her lips and downed the biggest gulp she had all night.

“Think about it. Even if we find the group ain't no place gonna be better than this. Ain't no place gonna be safer. We could easily live out the rest of our lives here.”

His fingers stroked the diamond studded band—her wedding ring, he thought, his stomach giving that familiar squirm. He found himself toying with the silver band she had picked out for him, likely taken off that walker she'd killed that morning.

“Maybe you're right. Maybe we should,” she was agreeing, but her voice sounded crestfallen and defeated.

“Jus' think about it some more. We don't have to go rushin' to our deaths out there.”

“Alright, I'll think about it,” she promised. She gave a contented sigh and flopped back onto the blanket, giggling.

He fell back next to her and found that her laughter was contagious and soon his own laughter was making his lungs burn in the cold night air. After awhile he wasn't even sure what they were laughing at anymore, but it felt good, felt _right_. No, _this_ was the pinnacle—the high point of his life. Her hand found his or his found hers. He wasn't sure which, but in the end it didn't matter. They were alive. They were together. They were happy. He could say now that she was his wife and he was her husband and have the physical proof to back it up. The laughter slowly evaporated, finding its place somewhere amongst the constellations, on the back of the bear, in the arms of Andromeda.

“I love you,” she turned her head to look at him. Her eyes were sparkling with wetness, “No matter what happens. No matter if we leave this place or die here,” her voice was dry and trembling slightly.

“I love you too. No matter what,” he said, drawing her against his side.

He held her like that for awhile, maybe an hour, maybe longer. The stars had shifted slightly since they laid down, but it was hard to tell. The moonshine had his brain still wrapped in fuzz. Beth had fallen asleep and he was reluctant to wake her even when he had to sit up to take care of a walker. They had both sobered a little by then and Beth was getting cold. They had a few more swigs of moonshine, picked up the blanket, and started back.

About halfway back, Beth stopped walking and leaned against the trunk of a tree. Her hand was still tangled in his and the pull from the sudden stop drew him in so he stood face to face with her. The blanket slipped from where he had it draped over his shoulder and dropped to the leaves. Her hair was snagged on the frost covered bark. Her skin was swan-white in the pale moonlight and the world was washed in a thin layer of blue-gray ice. Her eyes were the same color as the landscape they found themselves immersed in.

Their breath rolled out in a mist and nothing else in the world moved, no more wind, no more walkers, no more birds. Nothing. The frosted leaves cracked under his boots as he moved in closer, planting a foot on either side of hers, getting so close that his belt buckle snagged on hers. He reached down to untangle it and when he freed the tangled metal, her hands shot out and closed around his wrists and put them back on the buckle. She gave him a long stare, the stare a deer gives a hunter before the arrow pierces it. He understood at once what she was asking and he slowly slid the piece of worn leather through the scratched metal buckle which was ice cold under his fingers. He left the belt hanging open and dropped his hands to his sides. She swayed on her feet and gripped his wrists to steady herself but he was swaying himself. They were both still wildly drunk, just like that hot afternoon at the moonshine house.

Her hands brought his right back up to the button on her jeans. His fingers dipped into the waistband of her pants as he pushed the button through the faded denim with his thumb. She whimpered as his cold skin brushed against her warm stomach. His other hand came up and slid the short zipper all the way down. Her fingers were still around his wrist and she pushed his hand down the front of her white panties. She shivered again and mumbled something that sounded like “cold”, but she didn't remove his hand. He pushed it further down into the warm wetness between her legs. She turned around and faced the tree, pressing her cheek against the bark. His hips pushed against her ass as he leaned his chest against her back. His other hand slid up under her shirt and over her tits where she wasn't wearing a bra.

He still wasn't sure how much pressure to apply or how fast to rub, but she was guiding him, making little adjustments here and there, pulling his hand up further or down lower, a little to the right or left and tracing light circles over the back of his hand which he mimicked on her.

“Like this?” he breathed in her ear.

“Like this,” she agreed in a breathy voice.

Her fingernails scraped against the tree as he applied a little more pressure and slid his hand down further, teasing her for a few seconds before he pushed a finger inside. He yanked her jeans and panties down with his free hand. His finger slid out as she pushed away and kicked off her boots so she could get her jeans off the rest of the way. She pulled her sweater over her head too and stood shivering and naked in the moonlight before him.

Daryl pinned her against the tree again and covered her mouth with his. His erection pressed into her stomach and he could feel her fingers working his belt and finally the button on his jeans until she was able to pull them down. He pulled his crossbow over his head and tossed it into the leaves. He stepped out of his boots and jeans too and removed his vest and shirt so he could join her in her shivering. She had turned around again to face the tree, giving him a nice view of her ass. He went back to rubbing her clit while he thrust his hips against her butt. His dick slipped between her thighs which were warm and already slick. Anticipation flooded him. He knew this time he wasn't going to be able to stop and that didn't really bother him. His head dropped to her shoulder and he moved his mouth along the slope of it, following it in to her neck where he sank his teeth. She whimpered and he heard her nails scrape the bark again. She arched her back and pressed her ass into his hips. His hand tightened around her waist and his hips gave an involuntary thrust up into the warm wetness.

“We should go back,” he growled in her ear.

“Not yet,” her voice shook slightly and he could hear the begging tone in it.

“Don't think I can stop this time. We should go back where it's safe.”

“It's fine Daryl. We're alone. Don't stop.”

Maybe they were alone. It sure as hell felt like it. Felt like they were the last two people in the world.

He buried his face in her neck again. His hand was still working between her thighs. His hips bucked against her ass and the thought of their first drunken crossbow lesson came rushing back to him and only spurred him on. His foot pushed apart her legs so he had more room to maneuver. His hand slid down further between her legs and this time he pushed two fingers inside. She made some throaty little sigh that sounded pained, so he pulled back. Her hand grabbed at his wrist again.

"No," she groaned.

"No, what?"

"No more fingers."

He lowered his hand again and tried to push a single finger back inside. She shoved his hand away.

"No. I want you," she groaned, "Please."

His hips jerked against her ass at the sound of her words. Yes, he wanted that too, but he knew how loud she could be and the box of condoms was tucked safely away at the back of his wardrobe.

"Here? Now?" his voice seemed far away, like it was coming from another galaxy.

She hummed in response. His heart was banging against his ribs so hard he was sure the muscle was eroding the bone and soon it would have filed away the prison the contained it. His hand stopped moving against her pussy and he slid it up over her abdomen and rested it on her hip. She braced herself against the tree, spread her legs a bit further and looked back at him expectantly.

He twisted her around to face him and covered her mouth with his again as he pressed his body against hers. His dick throbbed against her stomach. He remembered the image she'd been looking at in the Kama Sutra book and had the urge to take her like that. Hell, he didn't care how he took her. He'd take her any and every way he could. She tore her mouth from his and stared at him breathlessly with her lips glistening. They had come to an unspoken agreement. His eyes darted back and forth between his erection and her pussy, trying to figure out the best way to go about this and compensate for their height difference.

She seemed to understand his thoughts and her toes curled into the muddy leaves as she stood on tip-toe. Her hand wrapped around a low hanging branch to steady herself. He bent his knees slightly and hooked an arm under her thigh, lifting her leg off the ground and to the side. He used his other hand to line himself up with her opening. Her other arm wrapped around his neck and her forehead dropped onto his shoulder. He pressed into her, trying to force his way inside. He didn't remember ever being with someone who was so tight. Hell, he could barely squeeze more than a finger inside her. Her eyes were downcast at the place he was trying to join himself to her, but he could see her face looked pained. All this was new to him as it was to her. He'd never been with a virgin, never been with someone even less experienced than himself. A flash of panic shot through him and he almost took a step back, but she pressed her hips down and suddenly he found her squeezing the life out of him. He sucked in a breath, trying to focus his mind. His head was reeling. He wasn't going to last long at this rate.

"Fuck, Beth, god," he mumbled into the side of her neck as he mouthed over it, sinking his teeth in slowly.

Her chest arched against his and she whispered his name in his ear before scraping his earlobe with her teeth causing his hips to slam against hers. She whimpered again, half-pained, half-something else, a good something else, Daryl hoped. Now that he'd situated himself inside her, he thought he may as well try that position from the book. His hands cupped her ass and when she realized what he was trying to do, her legs wrapped around his hips and her nails dug into his shoulders as she clung to him. He pressed in closer to her, as close as he could get, pinning her against the rough bark of the tree, slamming his hips into hers as much as the position would allow. She was probably going to have scrapes and scratches as souvenir of their first fuck. They both probably would as hard as her nails were clawing at his back. She was loud too, just like he figured she'd be, gasping, whimpering, and moaning as she bounced against him.

Somewhere nearby a twig snapped and they both froze, listening to the darkness. She tightened her legs around his waist as he leaned over to pick up his crossbow. They waited a few more minutes, hearts thudding against each other beneath the thin veils of skin that covered their ribs. Finally, the walker that had made the sound stumbled out of the brush, its foot tangled around a branch. Daryl readjusted Beth's weight, digging his fingers into her side as he leveled the bow with his other arm and aimed. The arrow struck the walker through the eye and it fell to ground, crashing and crunching the tree branch that was caught around its feet.

"Fuckin' bastards," Daryl grumbled, laying the crossbow down.

His shoulders were starting to ache by now so as he laid the crossbow down, he also laid Beth down. She yelped and squirmed underneath him.

"It's freezin', Daryl," she whined, sitting up.

"Wanna go back?" he asked. They should go back, back to where it was warm and safe, but seeing her naked in the moonlight, her chest rising and falling in quick, sharp pants, her hair a tangled, dirty, mess, and her eyes sparkling with that wild look made him push away those thoughts of stopping.

They were already too far gone to stop now. There was no coming back from this time, no pulling away and running into the bathroom, no shifting Beth off his lap onto the couch next to him.

"Jus' a little more, please Daryl," she breathed. She climbed to her feet. Her back was indeed covered with a number of small little scrapes, bruises, and scratches. He threw his arms around her and bit into the side of her neck.

 

They sank back down to the leaves. Beth was under him on her hands and knees. He slid back inside. It was easier now that she was so wet and her muscles seemed to have relaxed. He leaned over her, kissing up her spine until he reached the back of her neck. He reached a hand between her legs as he thrust into her. His other hand fisted in her messy ponytail that was coming loose from its tie and was tangled with dead leaves. She whimpered in pain as he pulled slightly too hard on it. He picked up the pace with his rubbing. She was practically shrieking now, panting his name every time he pulled almost all the way out before slamming his hips back into her ass again. Her hand came up and guided his, pressing on it, begging him to apply more pressure. More. Faster. Harder. He removed his hand from her ponytail and slid it around to her chest, giving her breasts a squeeze. He splayed his palm against her ribs where her heart was beating madly, trying just as hard as his was to escape the birdcage of bone.

"Yes, yes, yes, fuck Daryl, more. I'm gonna come," she shrieked.

He was all too happy to oblige her even though it felt dangerous as fuck. The faster he rubbed her, the louder she got as her muscles tightened and fluttered around him and god, it felt so fucking good, hell if he was gonna to stop even if her sounds brought a whole herd down upon them. Her noises became sharper and closer together. He mouthed over her shoulder blade, biting and pulling at the flesh there with his teeth until she arched up into him. She was whimpering his name, her muscles were so tight now, he knew he was only going to last for a few more minutes at best. Fuck, he should pull out and come on her back, but it was worth the risk to make her orgasm--which she did minutes later. He came almost immediately after. He probably could have pulled out, but it was all just too fucking good. If something happened they'd deal with it later. After all they had made it this far just the two of them.

Her body went limp underneath him and she collapsed, her chest still heaving. He fell to the cold wet ground next to her. They were both shivering, wet, naked, and dirty, but they were alive. They were together. And Daryl felt that surely _this_ was the pinnacle--the high point of _everything_.

 

 


	35. Thirty Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been so ridiculously patient waiting for this chapter. I truly apologize it's taken me so long to get it up, but it's finally done!

“God, Daryl, fuck,” Beth panted. Her chest was still heaving and her heart felt like it was threatening to break through her ribcage as fast as it was beating. Words and thoughts fled from her grasp as she lay there trembling, the afterglow of the orgasm numbing the cold and the ache in her lower abdomen and the somewhat raw spots on her back where it had scraped against the tree.

Daryl still lay in the wet leaves next to her. His arm was draped across his eyes and his lips were parted as he drew in million short, sharp breaths like he had just run a marathon. He turned his head slightly to look at her, a sweaty strand of hair falling into his eye as he did. Suddenly he looked worried, panicked even. Her stomach knotted. Was she bad? Did she do something wrong? Was she as disappointing as his past sexual experiences? Her anxiety must have showed on her face because the panic on his face was worsening by the second.

“Beth,” he managed to spit out, his voice shaking, “Are you ok? Did I hurt ya? Was it bad?” he finished, sucking in a breath while he waited for her response.

“Huh? No, it wasn't. It was...” she paused, trying to find the right word, but a question slipped out instead, “Can we do that again?”

“Again? Now? Jesus, woman,” he said, sounding like he was trying to hold back nervous laughter.

Beth shivered, painfully aware of the goosebumps that were racing across her skin and the wet leaves that were glued to her back.

“Maybe when we get back inside where it's warm,” Daryl said, climbing to his feet and stepping into his jeans.

She stood up and watched him. He had his back to her and the pale moonlight drained some of the color from his normally tan skin. His scars made an even starker contrast against his skin in this lighting. She slipped her arms around his chest and pressed against his back. His body tensed in her arms as her bare chest and stomach rubbed against his scars. Her fingers brushed against the one that ran down his ribs and stomach. His fingers stilled on his belt which he was in the middle of doing up, and he fidgeted for a minute as if he was trying to decide if he should shove her arms away. He drew in a very deep breath, pulling his skin out of her reach.

From where her cheek was pressed against his spine she could see the x-shaped scar on his shoulder. She leaned up and hovered over the spot for a few seconds while Daryl shivered beneath her palms, before pressing her lips to the spot and holding them there for a long minute. His body tightened even more in her embrace and then—all the tension snapped at once and he went limp in her arms and fell back against her, melting into her. She switched to the other side of his back and mouthed along the scar that cut diagonally across his spine.

“Beth, don't,” he growled.

She kept going, tracing the scar lower because despite what he said, his body said the opposite. He was practically leaning back into her, his skin felt warm beneath her palm, and his breathing had increased not unlike it had been as he'd held her against the tree. Something between a contented sigh and a moan escaped him and his fingers came up to stroke her left hand where it rested on his ribs. His ring snagged against hers and there was an awkward couple of seconds as he carefully tried to untangle the silver band from the rather ridiculously large diamond on her ring. Beth still had no idea where and when he'd gotten that ring. They hadn't been apart hardly at all since they left the prison. She had to carefully plan her little excursion out of the cabin to find a ring for him and he'd still woken up and come after her. Luckily, by the time he followed her, she'd already cut the ring off the walker's finger and been on her way. She'd known he'd had the ring for awhile--at least since their vacation, maybe longer. She had felt it in his vest pocket on more than one occasion and guessed what it was.

Tonight was the first time she'd seen it and the sight of it took her breath away. She'd never seen anything quite so exquisite and so unique with its two colored bands that wove in and around each other making a circle of figure eights. She wondered if Daryl had picked it because it was so different from the typical engagement rings—different like their relationship was. Or maybe he picked it because of the two different types of metals were like he and Beth—two opposites twisted together, not by their own choice, but together they created something beautiful.

The few leaves that still clung to the branches above them rattled as an icy breeze rushed over them. Beth pressed closer still, trying to dissolve into his skin, into the hot river of blood that ran beneath it. Reluctantly, she loosened her grip and let her arms fall to her sides.

“Beth, don't stop,” Daryl muttered, trying to grab her wrists before she could pull them away.

Her face was stinging from the cold. She had brought her arms up to cradle her ribs against the cold. Her toes were numb where they dug into the wet muck. When she didn't resume touching him he slowly turned around. His face shifted to a look filled with worry and guilt. All at once, he fumbled for her clothes and offered her his arm she stepped into her jeans and boots. Once they were both dressed again, he slung his crossbow over his back and in one swift movement, swept her off her feet. She tightened her arms around his neck, drawing herself closer—as close as possible. She nuzzled the side of his neck with her nose, taking in the sweaty smell of him. She flicked her tongue across the salty skin there and felt Daryl's heart speed up where it pulsed against her side. His eyes darted down at her and the corners of his lips twitched upwards for a half a second. He shifted her weight in his arms, giving her thigh a squeeze and hurried his steps.

“When we get back can ya keep touchin' me like that?” Daryl asked after clearing his throat.The words sounded almost alien coming from a man who almost never asked anything of her.

“You liked it?” she asked, suddenly feeling nervous, “You didn't mind me touchin' your scars?”

He shook his head, “Nah, it feels good when you do it.”

He carried her up the steps and she unlocked the padlock. He laid her over the arm of the couch as he always did as he bolted the door shut. She watched him with a hand behind her head. When he turned back around, he was smiling and he immediately set about removing her boots. This time there was no checking her ankle. Instead he ran his hands up the sides of her legs and over her thighs until his fingers closed around her belt.

He looked up at her once, twice, and began to undo the buckle and unthread the belt with a slow gentleness like a knight trying to steal a treasure without waking the dragon that was guarding it. He moved onto the button on her jeans and then the zipper. His fingers dipped into the sides of the waistband and she lifted her hips so he could pull her jeans down. This time he didn't yank them, but rolled them, folding them very slowly, denim over denim until he reached her ankles and gently worked the fabric over her feet. The jeans dropped to the floor with a soft swoosh and his eyes started at her milky ankles and traced up her calves, over her knees and along her thighs.

Beth couldn't help but remember that night in the treehouse when he'd helped her to pull her wet jeans over her swollen ankle. He'd looked at her the same way back then—full of a quiet and curious wonder as if he was trying to figure out just what she was made up of, as if she wasn't human, as if he was slightly afraid of her. He'd asked her then if she wore those tight-fitting skinny jeans that showed off her ass for him and in more or less words, she'd agreed. Even back then she liked when he took notice of her. _Oh_ , and she liked it now, very much so. To have him, to have _Daryl,_ take notice of her was no small thing. She'd never seen him take notice of _anyone_ before and that made it all the more special, all the more exciting.

Since then, she had dressed up for him a few times, including wearing the red lipstick she found at Shotgun Willie's. It was more than just trying to look nice for him though. Everything she did was for him and everything he did was for her and it had been that way for a long time and it would continue to be that way forever.

The depths of what she felt for him as she watched him caressing the sides of her thighs with that artless little smile, was threatening to overflow. His thumbs traced circles up and down her thighs and soon he brought his mouth to join them, nibbling here and there as he made his way up to the place where her panties were still painfully damp and cold from earlier.

He looked up at her from behind a few pieces of greasy hair that had fallen in his eyes and she gave a little nod. He ran his palms up the sides of her hips and pulled her panties off, rolling them down over her thighs and calves and finally off over her feet. He reached next for the hem of her sweater and she sat up to allow him to pull it over over head. His hands came up under the small of her back, cradling her before gently laying her down. He stood at the end of the couch, towering over her in the firelight, half his face covered in shadows. The half she could see was caught somewhere between a wistful half smile and a thoughtful wonder, again, as if he was unsure of what she was made of or perhaps unsure if any of this was real.

His eyes sparkled in the deep, almost hellish light as they traced every inch of her body. She suddenly felt self-conscious of all her imperfections—her small breasts, ribs that stuck out just a little too much, the deep, curving slash that cut her from shoulder to breast and the fact that she hadn't shaved in probably over a week by now.

His hands slowly came up and he removed his vest and with shaking fingers he began to undo the buttons on his shirt. By the time he was on the third button, Beth had gotten to her feet and come to stand before him. She closed her hands over his and gently pushed them down before taking over. He didn't attempt to fight her or stop her this time. There was no growl of her name as his hands closed around her wrists. Instead, he cupped the side of her face in his hand and brushed his thumb over her cheek a few times.

He was breathing in slow, deep, controlled breaths and seemed to only take a breath after each button was undone—in between he was completely still. He drew in a deep breath causing a strand of hair to flutter against his cheek. When she got to the last button her fingers stilled and curled into the fabric on either side of it. She squeezed the fabric and felt Daryl sway forward towards her. She waited, hoping he could make sense of the wordless question she was asking.

“Beth, I want you to,” he said in a low gravelly voice.

Her eyes flicked up to meet his. She unknotted the final button. This time there was no darkness separating the two of them and as she pushed the shirt down over his shoulders, the firelight danced off his bare chest breathing life into his flesh, turning it all a pulsing yellow orange. The scar that ran from his chest down to his stomach became a little mountain range in the landscape of his flesh and it cast a deep shadow as the sun hit it from the side.

“Want me to what?” her mouth was dry again.

The same tremble that ran through him also shook her hands as they hovered just above his chest. Since the night in the dark and the night at the bed and breakfast, she still hadn't touched his chest and back much. She had come to avoid it—especially his scars because she could feel the tension in his body boiling towards a breaking point whenever she did and he would sometimes squirm in pain when her hand brushed over a scar by accident.

_They still hurt._

“I want you to. The way you did it out there,” he said almost shyly.

“C'mon, sit down,” she offered.

He sat down very nervously on the edge of the couch in the way a patient climbs onto a doctor's examination table. He took in a deep breath, pulling his shoulders back before allowing them to slump forward as if he was trying to make himself as small as possible. She sat behind him, wrapping her legs around his sides, enfolding him, protecting him against the darkness.

His back was darkened before her, but she could still make out each painful little line. The sight of them made her stomach sink. It was the same every time she saw them and she wondered if it would always be that way. Her eyes drifted over his back, traveling the roads left by a man long dead, but who's ghost would never stop haunting Daryl. She wondered if this was Daryl's way of letting her know that he wanted or needed to talk about something in relation to his childhood with her. She listened and waited patiently, but he didn't speak. Instead, he shot a series of nervous glances over his shoulder.

Beth raised her hand as she drew in a deep breath. Her lungs were filled with the scent of him—all sweat, wet leaves, and the little bit of her that still lingered on his hands and other places. She found the start of a particularly long and thin scar that ran from his right shoulder down diagonally across his spine. She traced it first with her eyes, slowly, carefully, memorizing every little nuance of it. Her hand followed after her eyes, trailing over it with the barest touch of her fingertips. Beneath her hand, Daryl shivered and his shoulders seemed to hunch further over.

She stopped when she reached the end of the scar and laid her head against the middle of his back. Her other hand came to rest on his ribs and her palm splayed over his heart which was racing.

“Is this ok?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

His hand covered hers and he traced little circles over the top of it. He grunted a response that she took for a “yes.” She lifted her head and kissed back up the scar to his shoulder, gradually making the kiss open-mouthed as she worked her way up. His heart seemed to speed up even more beneath her palm and she quickly pulled back for fear of giving him a heart attack or something.

They sat in the dim glow of the crackling fire. All she could do was stare at his back. Ghosting over the length of it with her eyes over and over as the dark shapes seemed to twist and contort in the firelight.

“You're the first,” Daryl said suddenly.

“First what?” Beth asked, shaking her head.

“First person I let do that—touch 'em—my scars. Well willingly touch 'em.”

“Why?” the question spilled forth.

He shrugged his shoulders under her hands, “Maybe it's cause you know me, cause you've known me for like a hundred years.”

“I'm glad you have that kind of trust in me.”

“You're the first person that's made me want to talk about them. And about my dad.”

Her lips moved along the scar she had just finished tracing with her fingers. He shuddered against her.

 

He went silent for awhile and Beth nervously continued touching him, just barely scraping her nails across his skin, moving over his back lower, but avoiding the two parallel blistering scars. She was still scared to touch them since her hand had accidentally brushed across them that night in the dark. She still remembered how they felt—scaly, bumpy, like two little mountain ranges or twin spines of some two-headed dragon. It was hard to even look at them. Daryl hadn't talked about them either. She wasn't sure if they were made that night his father had chased him through the woods or if they were created on another terrible night. Either way, the thought made her sad. She loved him so much that it caused a heavy pain to know someone could hurt him so badly, that someone could willing give him such a heavy burden to carry for the rest of his life—a burden she now shared with him, but not fully. She only shared what he was willing to tell her and she guessed the weight of what he carried was much heavier than it looked and it looked damn heavy as it was.

“My dad always was careful where he hit me. Always on my back. Didn't want anyone to see 'n ask question,” Daryl said, a slight tremble in his voice.

“Did anyone ever see them at school? A teacher maybe?”

“Once or twice. Couldn't ask for help though. He would have killed me if he found out.”

“What about when you were older? Didn't any of the women you've been with ask about your scars? Try to talk to you about them?”

He seemed to shrink in the firelight. His eyes looked tired. Beth felt like she was toeing a dangerous line again, but Daryl just let out a long sigh and leaned back against her.

“Most of 'em were either disgusted or pitied me and it only made things worse. Didn't try to talk to me about 'em though—not in the way you've talked to me about 'em. I never thought I'd want to talk about 'em either, but maybe I do.”

“What changed your mind?”

He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. Shadows spilled across his face again, leaving only a few small triangles of light over the corner of his lips and under his eye. His eyes were dark, but they seemed to burning from within—a little spark, a flame that wasn't there before—no it was there before, but now it was different—more intense, more alive, burning with a sort of newfound bravery. She found herself transfixed by it and unable to look away or speak. The flame shivered suddenly and shrunk away. He turned his head back and dropped his neck.

“Do you...think they're ugly? Too hard to look at?” he mumbled.

Beth pulled back, trying to put space between herself and Daryl's back. Her own back pressed into the lumpy, scratchy couch as she drew her knees against her chest. In the dim light it was hard to see and the lines that crisscrossed his back were visibly softened. Her eyes darted up and down his spine, following what she could see of a line until it disappeared in a field of shadow. After awhile of struggling with her eyes, she brought her hand up to join and traced each scar, slowly, pressing her finger into his skin, savoring every shiver and groan her touches illicited.

“Why would I think that?” she asked quietly.

“Because they are and because there's some things that don't have anything beautiful about them.”

Beth let her head drop against his back between his shoulder blades. Her cheek brushed up against a scar there, but at the same time, the sound of his heartbeat beat a comforting tempo in her ear. She pressed her hand against the skin between her breasts and found her own, her fingers just lightly brushing against the scar Gorman had given her. It was an ugly scar too, but Daryl had never said anything about it, good or bad. He'd lovingly touched and kissed her scar a few times though, but tonight was the first time he seemed ok with her touching _his_ scars. Maybe they weren't beautiful and they certainly weren't a symbol of a good time in Daryl's life, but they were proof of _something_. They were proof that he'd survived and _that_ was beautiful.

“That's not true,” she told him.

“Oh?”

Her hand moved up to her chest where the thin little raised line draped across her chest like a beauty queen's sash.

“Turn around,” she said quietly.

He shifted on the couch, twisting his upper body to face her. Her leg slid across his lap as he turned. His eyes traced her naked skin up and down. They stopped when they reached the scar that cut her chest. Slowly, almost painfully so, he followed the length of it with his eyes. Then thoughtfully, he brought his hand up and brushed his thumb down over it starting at her shoulder. She could feel him shiver as he traced the little bumps in the raised line. She could see the anger settling into the lines on his face.

“Shouldn't have this. I shouldn't have mine either,” he growled.

“They're proof of something though. Proof that we survived something. That's got to mean something—be worth something.”

“They're still ugly and we shouldn't have 'em.”

“They're not ugly. They're beautiful because we ain't dead yet,” she told him, trying to mimic the way he had said it to her on the roof that day weeks ago.

“Do you like it when touch yours?” there was a hint of nervousness that clung to his every word like a life jacket.

She nodded, “I like it when ya touch both of mine,” she turned over her wrist to reveal the place she'd cut herself and he took it in both hands, stroking the little line with his thumbs, “You like it when I touch yours?”

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, pulling her into his lap.

She wrapped her legs around his lower back and pressed her hips into his. She draped her arms around his neck and he glanced over at the scar on her wrist. He kept a hand on her waist and used his other to bring her wrist to his mouth. A pained gasp escaped her as he mouthed over the sensitive skin there, lightly tracing the length of her scar with the tip of his tongue. His eyes darted between her wrist and her face, watching her curiously.

_You like that, huh sweetheart?_

She nodded silently and his hand tightened around her hip and he pressed her against him. The rough fabric of his jeans scraped at the delicate skin between her thighs as his hips gave a thrust—involuntary or not, she couldn't quite tell, but judging by the little smirk playing at the corners of his lips, she guessed the latter. Beth let her hand slide down his chest and around to his back where she splayed her palm over a crossroads of sorts made up of broken lines that some how all connected. He made some sound against her wrist where his lips were still pressed to it, but he only closed his eyes contentedly.

Beth felt herself relaxing against him as he kissed up her inner arm, stopping every now and then to pull at her skin with his teeth. He stopped when he got to the hollow of her elbow and licked around it, causing her to roll her hips over his. He draped her arm over his shoulder and dug his fingertips into the soft flesh above her hips slamming her abdomen against his hips. She winced as the cold sharp metal of his belt buckle slid against her skin. Daryl didn't seem to notice and had buried his face in in her shoulder, working his mouth down the length of her scar, lavishing it with attention from his lips and tongue.

His breathing was fast and shallow now and she could feel his heart thudding beneath his skin. She was still stroking his back with a hand, unapologetically tracing each scar, committing each one to memory, her head slumped forward onto his shoulder as she blindly felt out each line. Her free hand fumbled for Daryl's belt. She wanted him as naked as she was. She wanted what they had out there in the freezing forest, but this time in the warmth and safety of the cabin with the lumpy mattress beneath them. She clawed at the worn leather trying to free him from it.

He pulled away breathlessly and watched her with dark and shinning eyes, before lifting her off his lap and standing up. He looked nervous as he stood before her in the firelight. He shifted uneasily and his hands went to his belt then back down to his sides again and back to his belt as if he wasn't quite sure what he should do. Was he still hesitant after everything? Beth found herself absentmindedly twisting the ring on her finger. She climbed off the couch and stood before him.

“It's ok. We can now. Whenever we want to. We're staying here—forever,” she reassured him, as she carefully undid his belt.

"Are we?"

“We are,” she promised and she meant it too.

A smile spread across his face and this time it wasn't one of his quick ones. This time it lingered until he seemed to notice and awkwardly covered her mouth with his to hide it. His hands pressed into either side of her face as he kissed her. Her fingers had dipped into the waistband of his jeans and she slid them to the button and worked at it until she pushed his pants down over his hips and he stepped out of them causing her to stagger backwards. He caught her before she could fall. She wrapped her legs around his hips as he lifted her off her feet.

Her face was still buried in his so she just assumed he was carrying her to the bed. So it came as quite a surprise when he sat her down on the rough, slightly damp, and blood-stained surface of the counter. Her legs were still wrapped around his hips and his erection slid against her thigh as he leaned in again to taste her skin, all down her neck, over her breasts, lavishing them with attention. He no longer seemed as shy as he had in all their weeks and months together, but he still seemed slightly restrained. Every few minutes he would glance up at her as if silently asking for permission.

_Is this ok? Should I stop? Am I hurting you?_

She responded with small smiles and quiet moans and by running her fingernails over his scalp, down his neck and across his shoulders. His mouth moved lower, over the sharp jut of her ribs and the dip of her stomach. His hands were forcing her thighs further apart and she found herself leaning back against the wall to give him more space. She knew what was coming as his mouth met the soft flesh of her inner thigh and he worked his way up towards the place where she was already wet in anticipation for what was about to do. He moved painfully slowly, kissing, licking, sucking, biting, leaving a fresh trail of bruises amongst the slightly faded ones from previous nights of bliss.

Her fingers automatically swept through his hair, fisting in it, tugging at, trying to bring him closer to the place she ached for his mouth to be. Something in abdomen was fluttering wildly in anticipation and she he was killing her by not giving in. Her hand tightened around the fistful of hair she held and he groaned in pain against her thigh and pulled back momentarily. He looked up at her with a knowing smirk before giving her hips a rough jerk towards his mouth. Her ass and the back of her thighs scraped against the rough surface of the counter--a delicious kind of pain because seconds later she was met by his mouth, open, wet, and eager to devour her.

Beth's head slumped back against the wall, her eyes fluttered closed and her fingers loosened around the hair she held and instead went to lightly scratch Daryl's scalp. He had gotten good at this over the past week or so. He knew when to speed up, when to slow down, when to tease her, when to push his tongue inside, when to use his fingers and exactly what to do with them to make her come undone. Then he'd pull back, planting a few open-mouthed kisses on her thighs as he did so, his beard and his lips practically dripping with her arousal. All she could think about in that moment was that day at the church when they'd shared those apples. She couldn't help but remember the way the juice had run down his lips, his beard and dripped sticky-sweet onto the front of his vest. Maybe they could find some apples again next fall. She arched up in pleasure at the thought of sharing another magnificently juicy apple with Daryl, kissing him open-mouthed and hungry, sticky and wet. 

He pulled back before she could come and she shivered at the sudden rush of air and groaned as she tried to resist bringing her fingers in to quickly finish up.

“Not yet,” he said, licking his lips.

He wrapped his hands around her lower back and yanked her forward. She could feel his dick slipping against the wetness between her legs and this time he had a much easier time getting it in. It still hurt very slightly, but it was a good ache and she tightened her legs around his waist and pulled herself closer so he was in all the way. He stopped kissing along her shoulder and she heard him draw in a deep breath before mumbling something into the side of her neck. His fingers pressed into the flesh above her hips as if he was trying to reach through to the bone. His teeth sunk into his collar bone causing her hips to bump against his as she she felt a fresh surge of wetness between her legs. He made some noise that sounded like one of his "hmphf"s. Everything stood still and quiet outside the sound of their breathing.Time seemed to have stopped and she had no way of knowing just how long they stayed like that before she let her legs slide down off his hips and dangle against the cupboards, giving him room to move in and out, slowly at first, with lots of nervous glances at Beth. She wondered if he was trying to be a bit more restrained than he was earlier than that night.

"You ok?" he breathed in her ear.

She hummed in response and scraped her fingernails lightly across the top of his shoulder blades. Truthfully, the ache in her lower abdomen had returned, a bittersweet tenseness that throbbed every time he pushed into her and even more so when he picked up speed. She slid a hand between her legs and started to rub herself which alleviated some of the pain. After awhile it even started to feel good, very good and she could feel her orgasm quickly building. She could feel his building too with every mumbled "fuck," mouthed against her breasts, against her collarbone, her shoulder, the little hollow under her neck, with the way his grip tightened on her hips as he slammed them against his. The pans and dishes in the cupboard began to rattle and shake as he fucked her harder and she clawed at his back with one had to keep herself from falling apart completely.

Something bumped against the cabin wall outside and they both jumped. They stared at each other breathlessly for a few minutes before Beth came to her senses.

“Should we go out and take care of it?” she asked, not really wanting to leave the warmth of the cabin or the position she currently found herself in.

“Nah, probably jus' one. If it starts making too much noise we'll go out and take care of it.”

“Let's get away from the window at least. Maybe we're makin' too much noise.”

“Hmpf. You are loud, girl,” Daryl muttered, wrapping his fingers around her thighs and picking her up off the counter.

This time he did indeed carry her to the bed. He rolled onto his back and let her be on top for a bit, something she very much enjoyed, especially because he was able to rub her as she bounced up and down and there was something almost magical about the breathless way he watched her. She felt herself quickly building to an orgasm and as much as she wanted to draw out the feeling, it washed over her all at once.

After she came, Daryl rolled her onto her back and continued to thrust into her. His face was buried in her neck. He was thrusting into her hard now and she was getting sore, but she felt his body winding up, tensing, feel his heart thudding against her ribcage and she knew he was close. Somewhere in the back of her mind she saw the dusty little box of condoms buried in the back of the wardrobe and wondered if she should stop him and ask him to put one on, but it didn't really seem right with as close as he was. Besides, she had really liked the sensation of it back in the forest—that over-wet, slightly sticky feeling and the way it kept gushing down over her thighs as he carried her back. His body tensed to the point it couldn't tighten any more and he let out some guttural noise as he filled her and collapsed on top of her, his heart absolutely racing now.

They fell back on top of the quilt together, contented and sated. Beth let out a breathy little sigh as she stretched her arms over her head, arching her back up as she shot sideways glances towards Daryl to see if he was watching—and he was. She smiled to herself and brought a hand down and fumbled around in the blankets until she found his. His rough palm slid against her no-longer-as-smooth one.

Living out there with him and all the chores that came with keeping this place safe and keeping the two of them fed were starting to wear away the tender outer layer of her skin. Soon her hands would be as rough as his. She hoped he wouldn't like her touch any less when it lost its softness. She hoped he'd let her touch his scars every night forever, for as long as they both lived. She had hope now—so much of it—that they'd be able to live at the cabin, just the two of them, for a good long time.

Beth rolled onto her side and Daryl did the same. She lifted her head so he could slide an arm under her neck and she wriggled down his arm until their noses almost touched. The smell of tobacco filled her nose and mouth as she leaned in and kissed him, slowly and carefully, teasing his bottom lip by pulling it gently with her teeth. After a few minutes, he had fisted his hand in her hair and covered her mouth with his own. His hips gave an involuntary thrust against hers. He pulled back regretfully, his lips glistening and his eyes shinning black in the firelight.

“Damn girl, you're gonna kill me,” he mumbled against her forehead as he pushed her head against his lips.

“How so?” she asked, ever-so-lightly tracing the scar just below his left shoulder.

His whole body shivered against hers and his hand shot out to grab hers and pull it gently away from his skin.

“Like that. You're gonna give me a fuckin' heart attack if we keep this up all night,” he said in a way that was half a laugh and half a moan.

He brought her finger up to his lips and his tongue slipped out to taste it, tracing little spirals over her fingertip as if he was trying to map out her fingerprint. Now she was the one biting back a moan as she ground her hips against his. It didn't help any that they were both still very sticky and wet between their thighs.

“You can manage one more time?” she teased.

“Hmpf.”

He grabbed her other wrist and pinned them both above her head as he rolled her onto her back and climbed on top of her. She bit her lip as his dick pressed up against her opening, but he didn't use enough pressure to force it inside.

“Please, Daryl,” she begged.

His mouth twisted into a smirk and he ground his hips against hers, painfully slowly, teasing her by just barely penetrating her but not fully entering her.

“You like that, huh sweetheart?” he asked.

She nodded breathlessly.

A smile spread slowly across his face—not a mischieveous one this time, but a contented one, a satisfied one, one that was full of security about the future—their future together. Beth couldn't help but find herself mirroring that same smile and those same emotions. They were going to be safe here. They were going to be together here. Til the end of their days, which was such a very, very, long time away.

Beth broke the smile with a yawn, a long and deep one. Daryl's fingers loosened around her wrists and he rolled back onto the bed next to her.

“C'mon, babe, you're exhausted too. Stop pretendin' like you ain't,” he said, “Got plenty of time, jus' you and me. No need to have a lifetime worth of sex in one night.”

“Alright, Daryl, but I'm gonna wake ya up bright 'n early,” she laughed, letting her eyes flutter closed.

Beth turned onto her side and let the warm glow of the fire embrace her. The mattress creaked as Daryl shifted closer and draped a heavy arm around her ribs. He teasingly planted a few open-mouthed kisses along the slope of her shoulder, before burying his face in the back of her neck. Soon his breaths became deep and slow and Beth found her own breathing was changing pace to match it. When they were breathing in perfect time, she let the heaviness of sleep drown her.

The world was a black shadow. Beth couldn't see a damn thing. She held up her hand, but it became nothing—just another piece of the darkness. It was cold there as well. Somewhere an icy wind was blowing through that strange void. A word formed on the tip of her tongue—a name, his name and her heart sped up in panic as she groped around futilely for him.

_Daryl! Daryl! Daryl!_

She took a step, then another and another, her hands braced out in front of her to keep her from falling. The smell of woodsmoke and leather drifted past her, carried by the cold breeze and she followed it. The ground beneath her feet shivered and seemed to melt a little with each step. It was throbbing. Where was she? What was this?

_Bad moonshine can make you go blind._

Is _that_ what this was? Bad moonshine? Or was it something else? Something caused by the lack of something, by the lack of _someone_?

_Ain't nothing worth seein' out there anymore, anyways._

There was something though. Just one thing. One person. Daryl, but where was he?

Beth stopped suddenly. The ground was burning under her bare feet which had sunken down into the—grass? Was it? Or was it something else? Something like fur? She shuddered at the thought as her feet were pulled further into warm, sticky surface.

A red point of light appeared before her, a sinister little eye and then another, two of them, watching. No, not eyes. The pinpoints of light grew, spreading out like spidery little veins, tracing out the feathery shapes of wings, a shaggy head of hair, the outline of shoulders, hands, and a back. Thin red lines flourished across the black surface of the back, intersecting his spine, compartmentalizing him. Beth knew each line by heart—how long, how thick, every little bump and break. She knew what it felt like to touch them and her fingertips throbbed with the memory of them. She laid a hand on his shoulder and his skin blossomed a ghostly white in the darkness, but the scars remained an intense red.

A rush of relief flooded her as he turned to face her. He was pale as hell, pale as that day back in the haunted forest, but he was smiling at her. Feathers rustled and fluttered past her, sticking to her hair like snow.

“I wanna show you something,” he said suddenly.

“What is it?”

“Can't say. I can only show ya.”

The white wings drew back, bending slightly at their joints. He bent his knees as her reached down and scooped her up. The wings twitched, sending a fresh shower of feathers over Beth. Nervous excitement rushed through her stomach as she realized what was about to happen. Her fingers tightened where they were resting on his shoulder as he leapt into the air and didn't come back down.

The nervous excitement turned to nausea as the black ground shrank away below them. As they flew higher, the deepest black turned to lightest gray as if they were flying through a gradient, until finally it grew dark again and they were flying through the night sky—all dark navy blue, doted with little pinpricks of white-hot light.

Beth's mouth and nose suddenly felt as if they were filled with cotton and her lips moved wordlessly as she gasped for air. It rushed in all at once and she had the feeling that she had just emerged from being underwater for a long time.

Daryl gently sat her down on the softest and greenest grass she'd ever laid eyes on and stood over her, patiently waiting for her to regain her composure. When she stopped gasping for breath, he held a hand out for her. As her eyes traced the muscular curves of his legs up to his hips, she realized he was naked. Her eyes darted down at her own chest and she realized _she_ was naked as well. She shivered and tried to cover herself as she looked around anxiously.

Daryl shrugged, “Ain't no one here. We're alone in our own world.”

Beth slowly removed her hands and took Daryl's. He pulled her to her feet and didn't let go of her hand after he had. Beth had no clue where they were in space or time, but it didn't matter. They were alive. They were together and this was perhaps the most beautiful place she'd ever seen in her life. An endless garden stretched before them. Birds darted through waves of green grass. Sun warmed her face. Everything smelled fresh and new, dotted with scent of flowers and fruit. They walked hand-in-hand past the mirror-smooth green surface of a pond, through a field of pink tulips, and finally they came to a seemingly endless orchard filled with apple trees.

Daryl stopped when they came to the center of the orchard. Beth kept walking for a few more steps, but she was snapped back to Daryl's side when she tried to go beyond the length of his outstretched arm. He was staring up at the tree that stood before them.

It wasn't like all the other trees that crowded the orchard. It towered above the hunched little trees, so high, the branches disappeared into the clouds. Daryl's eyes were tracing the branches, his lips slightly parted.

“Think there might be a few apples left,” he said turning to look at her, “Up there.” He raised an arm and pointed up at where the tree disappeared into the sky.

Beth nodded. It was late in the season. Most of the apples would have fallen and rotted by now, but there might be a few left clinging to those upper branches—pink ladies, most likely. She glanced around, soaking in the sight of the orchard, breathing in the heavy scent of grass, trees, and the sickly sweet smell of fruit. The trees weren't bare as she expected. Instead, heavy branches swelled with red-pink fruits. Why couldn't they just grab some of those apples? They were closer to the ground and easier to reach.

“Why don't we keep lookin'? Find some that are easier to reach?” Beth said nervously. A twinge of pain shot through her ankle and the familiar fear of falling clawed at her stomach.

“You're scared? Why?” he asked.

Without even thinking about it, Beth shifted her weight to her good leg to try to alleviate some of the pain that was radiating up her once-injured leg.

“Is it hurtin' again?” Daryl asked with a nod at her ankle.

_Why was it hurting again?_

She hadn't done anything to re-injure it and it had long since healed. Yet, the thought of scaling those branches sent waves of pain through it.

“A little,” she admitted.

“Why? Because you're scared?”

She nodded. That must be it.

“Jus' don't think about it. Do you trust me?” he asked.

“I do. It's jus' I'm scared of falling—of hurtin' it again.”

“You won't fall. You can do this. Even if you do fall, I'll catch ya, trust me.” The white wings on his back twitched at his words.

Beth still felt unsure. It was an awfully long way to the top of the tree and she couldn't see any fruit at all on the lower branches. This seemed to be the only tree in the orchard that wasn't practically overflowing with fruit.

Daryl didn't wait for her answer. His arms tightened around her waist as he gave her boost onto one of the lower hanging branches. She swayed for a second on her bare feet as the rough bark cut into them. She embraced the trunk of the tree to keep herself from falling the short distance to the ground. Her stomach only tightened when she realized the distance to the ground was already quite a bit and would only grow as she climbed higher and higher.

“C'mon, Greene, them apples ain't going pick themselves. Daylight's wastin',” Daryl called up to her.

Beth reached for the next branch, first carefully testing it with her good foot to make sure it could take her weight. She kept one hand on the trunk as she pulled herself up. She continued in that slow and overcareful manner until she broke through the clouds. Daryl was no more than a tan and white speck on the ground below at this point and her stomach did a backflip at the thought of the fall. Falling from this height would surely do more than re-injure her ankle.

As she climbed higher, the air became frigid and she shivered in her nakedness as her breath turned to mist. Finally, she could go no higher and spotted a cluster of deliciously red fruits hanging nearby, heavy and covered in a veil of frost. They were too big to be apples and slightly oddly shaped as well.

With one arm wrapped around the tree trunk, Beth stood on tip-toe and leaned forward, her other arm stretched out towards the fruit. Her mouth was watering. She could almost taste it—a sweet, juicy pomegranate, the same kind of fruit from those Greek myths. Her hand closed around it. It was becoming slippery and wet quickly from the heat of her palm as she tugged it free from the branch. It let go with a quiet little snap and the leaves rustled as the branch bounced back.

“I got it! Daryl! I got it!” she called down to him. Her voice echoed and sounded far away, “Catch.”

She flicked her wrist and sent the fruit tumbling back to earth. On the ground below, Daryl scrambled forward and caught it. She grew even hungrier when she saw him cutting into the blood red fruit and scooping out its insides. With a bit more confidence this time, she leaned forward again and reached for another fruit. Her fingers closed around its icy skin easily and she yanked it free from the branch.

Without thinking, she let go of the branch, eager to open the pomegranate and dig in. Her bad ankle gave out from an under her and she slipped. Her stomach gave a horrible lurch as she fell backwards and crashed through the branches.

As if someone switched off a light, the world went black again. She was falling, her body cracking against branches as she plummeted to the ground. The sickly snapping and breaking sounds were so _loud_. And then there was shouting too—a lot if it, multiple voices, Daryl's tangled in with them, confused, heavy with sleep, but oh-so-very angry too.

Beth opened her eyes and sucked in a deep breath. For a moment, she thought she had indeed gone blind. The room was pitch black. No, not completely black. A faint orange glow flickered through the dark like hellfire and for a sleepy few seconds she thought she'd fallen all way down to the center of the earth.

Fabric was drawn against her nose and mouth and she struggled to free herself but the fabric wouldn't budge.

“Daryl,” she mumbled, her voice starting to swell with panic.

Someone shushed her. Daryl was arguing with someone else. Fear rushed over her when she realized she was indeed awake and there were other people in the cabin with them. What the hell was going on and how the hell had people gotten in? They had locked the door, hadn't they? She was sure Daryl had bolted the front door behind them earlier, so that would mean the intruders had to have come in through the hatch in the loft. The ladder...they had forgot all about it. Beth swore under her breath as cold hands wrapped around her wrists and threw her across the room.

 


End file.
